#golden compass did not make a huge mark on me as a small and i haven't felt compelled to seek out anything else by him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesugarclubs-blog · 1 year ago

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Talking to the Moon - Steve Harrington x OC

warnings: werewolf au, sheriff steve harrington, lost hiker oc, stranger to lovers, soft smut, 18+

word count: 16.9 k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1378982066-talking-to-the-moon-felicity

Masterlist

“Stupid cell phone,” Felicity shoved the useless piece of technology into her backpack after

figuring out that she had no service.

Huddled in the middle of dense Illinois forest she had somehow gotten herself lost. “So much for being a human compass,” she mumbled to no one but the birds and breeze. Before his passing her dad would take her on trips just like this for her birthday, camping and hiking was their time alone.

Felicity turned twenty-nine today, her dad forever sixty-three. But she had been determined to go camping, against her mother and brothers’ wishes she wasn’t going to let the death of her father stop her from their tradition. So she packed up her bags, loaded them in her shitty car and drove until she couldn’t see city buildings.

Now standing over her overstuffed backpack, with her dead phone and stubborn resolve to prove everyone wrong. She was fucking lost and it was getting dark out.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” she uttered in a singsong-voice as she looked around, trying to figure out which way she came from, only to realize once again that she was clueless. She walked around a few times, thinking about what to do, only to come to the conclusion that she had no other choice than to walk around and find her way out. What did her dad always used to say?

Fuck around and find out.

And that was her plan. At least after she got lost and her phone gave up on her, that was.

Felicity grabbed her huge backpack and started to walk back the way she came from. The beautiful nature of Illinois made her somehow relax and calm, and all of a sudden, she wasn’t scared to find her way out anymore. The huge trees, the birds and the fresh air had a calming effect on her, which she was sure was due 99% because of the memories of her dad and their special day. She really missed him. Although she used to hike a lot, it was never the same as with her dad.

Golden rays of sunshine streamed through the minimal gaps in the trees as if to illuminate a pathway through the never ending nature-scape. Felicity tucked her dark hair behind her ears, letting out a sharp breath as she navigated. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered with a soft smile finding a home on her lips.

A small chill vibrated through her bones but she shook it off as the sounds of the forest echoed around her. She knew this forest. Her dad’s voice in the back of her mind told her everything would work out and she had to believe him.

Felicity pushed her way through branches keeping a careful eye on her footing as she made her way through the lit pathway. Every once in a while the overwhelming sense that she was being watched would creep up her spine. She chalked it up to being in the woods alone, animals she couldn't see hiding within the brush but once a golden ray would hit her skin, a wave of comfort would crash over her making her trek a little easier.

As the forest started to get thicker, she couldn't help but think that she was still lost.

"C'mon Dad, help a girl out." She said out loud, stumbling over a large rock. Felicity stopped to gather herself again. Her eyes flickered around her, glancing ahead when she saw a small plume of steady smoke floating into the sky. Her brows furrowed as she followed it down to what looked like a small shack sitting tucked back into the denser trees.

Felicity pursed her lips, a low whistle slipping from them as she tightened her hold on her backpack. She took a deep breath and chuckled, “Way to show off big guy,” shaking her head with a smile, “I knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging.”

She took her sign and braved forward following the smoke and a faint walkway marked off between the trees walking as fast as the trail could permit. Her shins were hurting and her breath was short as she reached the shack. The trail leading up to it was a small hill and she had already been walking for so long before she found it.

When she finally reached the couple of steps leading up to the door she stopped for a breath leaning onto the wooden railing. The door flew open and Felicity immediately looked up, the abrupt noise startling her.

Her chestnut eyes took in the man in front of her, seeming just as startled as herself to find her there. The breeze pushed through the golden brown waves of his hair as he stepped into the door frame with a shotgun resting over his chest. The fabric of his black t-shirt clung to the swell of his tense biceps and chest. He watched her with honey swirled brown eyes, flickers of concern as his lips pressed into a firm line.

“Uh hi—” Felicity stepped forward, stopping on a dime when his finger slipped against the trigger of his gun. “I don’t— uh I’m lost.” She threw both her hands up.

“You need to leave,” when he spoke Felicity felt herself inhale, holding her breath at the sound of his gruff voice. “You can’t be here.”

Felicity took a small step backwards, keeping her hands up in the air as her dark eyes flickered between the gun clutched in his hands and the small flash of amber in the man’s eyes, “I - I just need help, I promise. If you could just - point me in the direction of the road, I will leave you in peace,” she stammered. The man stood listening to her ramble with a furrowed brow before stepping forward and looking around quickly, his eyes casting up to the oranging sky. His fingers tapped against the gun, and he huffed deeply.

“Seriously, I just - I just need to find my way home,” she finally finished, slowly bringing her hands down to loop her fingers into the straps of her pack.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he swallowed thickly, “you’d never make it in time,” he muttered quietly.

Felicity's brows furrowed, "In time for what?" She asked not missing how his eyes skitted to the woods behind her before landing back on her own. Deep golden eyes bore into her before he tilted his head to the side.

"For nightfall." The man replied as if it was the most obvious thing and not whatever made his trigger finger twitch when her boots shifted in the dirt.

She pinned back her shoulders, knowing that the longer she stood here having this weird stand off with him the more daylight she was wasting. "Well, if you could just point me into the direction of the road, I'm a pretty fast walker. I can make it." She confirmed with a nod.

The man stared at her for a moment, his mouth dropping slightly open and eyes narrowing at her before he straightened, "you won't." He rasped with as much conviction as she felt needing to get home.

"If I keep standing here arguing with you, I definitely won't." Felicity snapped, "C'mon, you can do it. Just raise that hand, preferably the one not holding the gun and show me where to go." She took a quick mental note of the bear spray in her backpack, knowing it was too far away for easy access and silently cursing herself for shoving it in the bottom of her bag.

She didn't even know if bears existed in Illinois, she just felt safer with it.

The man relaxed his body or at least as much as his wide stiff stance would let him. "It's four miles in that direction," he said, lifting his empty hand and pointing in the opposite direction that she had been heading, "so no, you won't make it before nightfall no matter how quick you move."

Fuck. She thought, realizing that she had been heading the wrong way.

"Okay, well..." Felicity looked back at him, "do you have a phone? Mine died an hour ago."

"No service out here."

"Not even a SAT phone?" She asked, taking a baby step towards him and stopping as soon as his grip on his shotgun tightened. The plastic grip whining under his hold. His jaw worked as he shook his head and her brows furrowed again. "So you're just some man, living in the middle of the woods with no contact with the outside world? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it sweetheart."

She stepped forward again, keeping her eye on his finger as her boots crunched in the soil beneath her and he watched her cautiously, he was afraid of something. But what? She thought. Felicity watched with curious intentions as he shifted from his left to his right boot. He was just as nervous as she was, a cornered animal she had accidentally snuck up on.

“Who’s to say you aren’t playing tricks on me?” She asked, batting her lashes up at the sky, trying to spot a faint outline of the North Star. “Trying to spin me in circles on purpose.”

“I want you out of my woods,” he snapped like he meant it but flinched when he said it, like it hurt him to be mean to her.

“Your woods?” Felicity narrowed her eyes.

“The woods,” he corrected himself, shifting again back to his left. “I want you out of the woods, it’s not safe.”

“I’m used to the wilderness, I’m pretty sure I can handle it,” Felicity raised her chin with a bravado that she didn’t quite feel.

The man let out a scoff. “Sure you can, little miss wrong direction.” But then his expression changed once more, growing darker. “This wilderness is different.”

“In my experience one bit of woodland is the same as another. Look, if you’re not gonna help me I’ll leave you in peace. There’s gotta be a little clearing around here somewhere I can pitch up for the night. I’ll find the road tomorrow,” Felicity said decisively, waving her arm in the general direction the guy had indicated the road lay.

“No!” He almost growled, stepping towards her, making her jump, and she let out a yip of surprise.

Felicity’s hand landed on her chest as she attempted to calm her breath, keeping her dark eyes focused on the man in front of her. What was this guy’s deal? Sure, living in the woods on his own would make anyone a bit strange, but there was something more about him. She just couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

“I - I’m sorry,” he gruffed, shaking his head and casting his eyes down to the dirt, twirling his fingers back around the gun, “There’s just, there isn’t supposed to be people out here, it’s why - it’s why I come here. But now with you here, it - it’s complicated,” he mumbled.

“I’m just gonna go,” she raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest as she once again spun on her heel to start down the path he’d pointed towards.

Heavy footsteps behind her caught her attention, but she didn’t dare turn around this time. Or even pay them attention. She just had to get back to her car.

“No please,” calloused fingers brushed against her bare shoulder as he tried to stop her, “Look, I meant what I said, you’d never make it to your car before nightfall and it’s - it’s not safe in the woods at night. There are bears and - wolves up here, I can’t - I can’t let you go out there by yourself”

Felicity scoffed and turned to meet his eyes as a sunray caught the yellow in his iris’, “Thanks for the tip mountain man, but I think I’ll be okay,”

“I can’t let you go into the woods at night.” He said softly. Offering her no other option Felicity shrugged out of his hold.

“Good thing you aren’t the boss of me.” She snipped, continuing down the trail knowing that she sounded like a petulant child but she was tired of people second guessing her ability to take care of herself. It’s the exact reason she loved hiking with her father. He never questioned her, only guided her when she fell off the path and showed her how to take care of herself.

Her throat tightened as she swallowed down the emotions rising within her. The last thing she needed was for someone else assuming she was weak.

His boots crunched a long the gravel behind her, almost in sync with her own. Felicity made it half way down the hill before halting and spinning on her heels shooting him a glare. “Are you just going to follow me now?”

His brows furrowed placing his hands on his hips as he studied her for a moment, “I have soup.” The man practically blurted before dropping his head with a sigh, “I mean, if you—“ he stopped himself as his gaze flicked to hers as if he was wrestling with whatever he was about to offer. “It gets dangerous out here at night and cold.”

Felicity stared at him, “you’ve said that.”

“Are you always this difficult?” He barked.

She raised a brow and quipped, “are you?”

If his brows could furrow further down his eyes would be nowhere to be seen behind them. He shook his head and tapped his forefingers against his hips while licking his lips, eyes glued to the last view of the setting sun over the tree lines above her head. The expression of his face looked as if whatever thought that occupied his mind was determined to keep up the war inside.

He took a deep breath and pushed back the mess of brown hair that seemed to have gotten its own life now.

"Listen, I didn't mean to question the experience you have with the wilderness but all I want to say is that..." he trailed off for a second, taking a step closer while warm brown eyes bored into hers. "This isn't a place you want to get lost in, be alone in, for too long. It's not like...any other forest you've been to. Trust me, I know."

His voice now deeper and just above a whisper, like he was afraid of really uttering the words out loud. That brought her own thoughts to go spiraling. Then why are you living here all by yourself? Is this what happens when you cut off any contact with civilization?

She crossed her arms over her chest. "So what's up with this one? Got two headed turtles running around and biting your neck at night?"

Felicity could have sworn she saw the glimpse of a smile tugging at the corner at his lips, but it was gone in a blink of an eye when he once again casted his eyes over the tree line.

"Fuck." He muttered. "It's getting closer…"

“What?” Felicity blocked his view and his brows knitted together. “What is out there that you’re so scared of?” She asked, digging her boots deeper into the soil.

“Wolves,” he said, his eyes snapping to hers. She watched as his fingers itched at his side and his arms tensed around his gun.”Big ones,” he exaggerated.

“You’re repeating yourself again. I have bear spray,” she rolled her eyes.

“That’s not enough,” he said as she started to walk again. “Stop. Now.” He barked from behind her, “come back to the cabin. You can—“ he marched up to cut her off and put his hand out to stop her. “Eat and sleep.”

“Hell no,” Felicity laughed, completely over him and the whisplash that she was giving her.

“Go back now, or I’ll have to arrest you,” he said, his chest puffing out but his voice shaky.

“What are you, the forest police?” She laughed loudly and stepped back from him.

“I am the sheriff,” he confirmed, his hand digging into his back pocket. Handcuffs swung from his long fingers, the metal clinking together.

“Where’s your badge?” She asked, fear gripping her. The wolves and bears didn’t scare her as much as a weird man with a shotgun, handcuffs…. And soup.

“At the cabin,” he huffed, annoyed with her. A piece of his long hair fell against his forehead as he lowered his eyes to her. “Come back to the cabin, please.”

Felicity checked her phone once more, as if hoping that it had miraculously charged itself, but it was still dead and the picture of her and her dad on the lock screen was still out of her reach.

Fuck around and find out. OK Dad, she thought, let’s find out…

“What kind of soup?” She asked quietly, lifting her eyes to the stranger’s, whose eyebrows raised in obvious surprise.

“You know, I’m not quite sure. My friend packed it, it could be anything, but there’s enough for two?” He’d grown a little timid at her change of heart.

“Mystery soup with a strange hermit in the woods, never thought I’d get that one ticked off the old bucket list,” Felicity wise-cracked, trying to ease the tension a little more.

“That’s an oddly-specific bucket list,” the guy breathed and it almost sounded like a laugh.

Hiking her backpack further onto her shoulders she turned and trudged determinedly past the man back towards the cabin.

“Come on then Sherrif, soup’s not gonna eat itself,” she called over her shoulder, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth as she saw him jump into action.

“Steve,” he replied as he caught up to her, “I’m Steve.”

Felicity hummed, a playful smirk falling on her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, “I think I like mountain man better,”

“We aren’t in the mountains, that makes no sense” he quipped back, and she would have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth twitch into an almost smile.

“Whatever you say, Steve the mountain man,” She smirked again, as they walked into the cabin.

It was as simple as cabins in the woods could get. Small open floor plan, with a small two seater couch and plaid blankets almost everywhere. A kitchen with just the necessities that looked like they’d been here since the 70s and a round dining table with one wooden chair. There was a wood stove that sat nestled in the corner and Felicity was almost surprised to find actual photos up on the wall. A group of smiling kids with their arms wrapped around each other, and in the middle of them stood who she believed was a younger Steve. He looked happy and playful, and the opposite of the man who stood before her now.

A gruff throat clear from beside her pulled her back to the present, “make yourself comfortable,” he muttered, moving past her into the kitchen.

Felicity shrugged out of her backpack and set it on the edge of the couch before doing one more spin to get a look at the cabin. She rolled her shoulders ignoring the dull ache in them from the weight of her overpacked sack as she made her way into the kitchen.

“Cute cabin,” she offered as he poured the contents of a clear container into a pot on the wood fired stove.

“It’s just a cabin.” He lifted one shoulder haphazardly as he stirred the soup.

She rolled her eyes leaning against a small countertop next to him. Her eyes roaming over his sharp yet ruggedly soft features, noticing the small constellation of freckles that dotted his cheek. Felicity resisted the urge to reach out and trace them with her fingertips as she let out a sigh, “so what’s in this mystery soup?” She asked leaning towards him to get a peek into the pot.

Felicity noticed the way Steve’s entire body tensed as she got closer to him, her shoulder gently brushing against his as she spied the contents. “Hmm,” she hummed, “looks like carrots, celery, are those potatoes?” Her nose scrunched as she looked up at him. Steve’s gaze was focused on hers, the dull kitchen lighting still made the gold flecks in his eyes dance as he stared.

After a moment she pulled back forcing him to blink a few times, “you don’t like potatoes?” He asked his voice somehow huskier than before while turning his focus back onto the stove.

“I mean they’re ok I guess,” she shrugged, “they’re just a little…uninspiring.”

Steve stiffened as if he was offended and slid an incredulous gaze back to her.

“I thought you were strange, creeping around my woods a million miles from the road and going in the wrong direction but now, to insult the noble potato? Now I know you’re a weirdo! I should call the Sheriff or something.”

“You are the…” Felicity began but paused. “Wait. You’re making fun of me aren’t you?”

“I would never,” Steve said, his voice gruff but there was a teasing hidden underneath that made the atmosphere just that little bit lighter. “Here,” he said, handing her the ladle, “stir the uninspiring soup while I get some bowls.”

Felicity took the ladle from his hands, his fingers brushing hers along the way, sending chills down her spine. She didn’t know why. It was almost too cliche, like something out of a movie. But she felt there was something different about him. His touch, even so little, was warm and soft, nothing like she expected after the cold first impression she got of him.

She stirred the soup a little, looking into the pot and watching the little pieces of potato swim around. She must’ve had a disgusted impression written all over her face because when Steve came back with the bowls, he chuckled. “You really don’t like potatoes, do you?” his tone was a little more serious and softer than before and Felicity responded by shaking her head.

“You wanna trade, then? I’m not a huge fan of carrots. You can have my carrots and I'll take your potatoes.”

“Deal.” she chuckled and Steve started to fill both bowls with the hot steaming soup.

“Mhm,” Felicity moaned. “It does smell good though.”

She watched Steve collecting all his carrots with his spoon and putting it into her bowl. She copied his motion and did the same with her potatoes.

“It tastes even better than it smells. It’s my favorite soup. I could eat it all day.” Steve started eating but Felicity just stared at him confused.

“I thought you don’t like carrots.” She frowned and saw how Steve's cheeks turned a bright pink as he kept eating.

Busted. She thought. But at the same time, she thought it was pretty cute that he offered to trade so that she had more of her soup.

A smile tugged on her lips, “It was great doing business with you, Sheriff.”

“Yeah you too, mystery mountain woman.” He looked up at her with his bright hazel eyes and she remembered that she had never given her name.

“Felicity,” she said, “my names-”

“Felicity, I like that.” He smiled, eating more soup.

Silence fell between them, giving her a chance to recenter herself and really take in what was around her. As Steve ate quietly, his hair falling in his face and eyes darting up to check on her every once in a while, she studied the sheriff.

The black t-shirt he wore left nothing to her imagination, tight around the swell of his biceps she noticed that his skin was far from perfect. Scattered about both arms were scars that she hadn’t seen before, they looked like faded paint splotches and matched the tight ring of faded white scars around his throat, now visible up close in the light. She looked at the picture again, it was hard to look at Steve without seeing that lack of warmth but something had stolen the light from his eyes.

“Who are they?” she pointed her spoon toward the photo, too curious to remain quiet.

“Family,” he huffed, not looking at what she pointed at. “Mike, Will, El, Dustin, Max and Lucas.” He named them across the photo left to right from memory.

“You look so happy,” she smiled, turning her attention back to him.

He stared up at her through heavy lashes, sadness maiming all the smooth features of his face. She could see the young man, beneath the burden and trauma, he had clearly suffered so much that he wasn’t healing from.

“Are you finished?” He extended his hand to her bowl and she nodded letting him take it from her. “Why were you up in the woods anyways? It’s an odd time of the year to hike.”

“It’s my birthday,” she leaned back in her chair and watched him as he quickly did the dishes in the small sink.

Steve’s golden gaze flicked over to her from the sink, “Birthday huh?”

Felicity smiled and nodded though she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had been doing well trying to forget the biggest piece of her birthday puzzle that was missing. Her gaze moved from him to the photo of his family and she swallowed the creeping lump in her throat.

“Not one for celebrations?” He asked as he leaned against the counter and wiped his hands clean.

“I love celebrations.” She said softly.

He threw the dish towel over his shoulder and crossed his arms over his broad chest as he studied her, “someone who loves celebrations doesn’t spend their birthday in the woods alone.”

Felicity let out a heavy breath, “man nothing gets by you does it?” She chuckled gently.

Steve shook his head, “Not usually.”

She watched the corner of his mouth quirk up as he watched her. Felicity opened her mouth to tell him everything but it fell closed. She couldn’t just spew out her feelings to this man. She also knew once that faucet was turned on she wouldn’t be able to turn it off.

“Lay it on me mountain woman,” he urged gently, crossing one leg over the other as he made himself comfortable.

She sighed, “Just remember you asked,” Felicity let out a small laugh that trailed off, “My dad and I used to go hiking all the time, especially on my birthday.”

His head tilted to the side, “used to?”

Felicity flashed him a weak smile, “He passed not too long ago.”

Steve hummed, and nodded once, pulling his lips into a thin line, “I’m sorry, that’s tough”

With a small shrug, she nodded in response, “Yeah but you know, working through the five stages of grief and all that fun stuff. I had hoped being back here would help and for a little there it actually did, but I think my mom and brother’s voices in the back of my head telling me not to come threw me off, and well, now I’m here,” she chuckled lightly again.

“Now you’re here,” he repeated, keeping his gaze fixed on her.

“Okay, well, that was my tragic backstory,” Felicity said quickly, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows at him, “your turn, Sheriff Steve”

“Oh we don’t have to get into that,” he chuckled nervously, turning around to look out the little window that sat above the sink.

“Oh come on,” she protested, “the random girl you found stumbling through the woods just spilled about her life, it’s only fair. Let’s just do family! You said those kids were family, but what about your actual family? Where are they?”

The man cleared his throat and tapped his fingers against the porcelain sink, “Just because they’re blood, doesn’t mean they’re family,” he mumbled, “And I don’t know where they are. South America somewhere I think… My parents haven’t been back here in years. They used to come home every once in a while for Christmas, but one year they just stopped. That’s kind of why I always made sure those kids,” He turned slowly, and gestured towards the photo, “always had someone.”

“And who took care of you?” Felicity chewed on her lip.

She watched his eyes as they bounced around the cabin trying to figure out the answer to her question. He rubbed a hand roughly over his nose and nodded as he contained his feelings, “there were people here and there, but eventually everyone leaves when things get hard and scary you know?”

“I do.” She probably understood too well what it felt like when people ran away. Her ex had turned tail the second things got hard with her dad, citing she wasn’t spending enough time with him.

“I just became the guy.” He shrugged. “The it’s gotta be me guy. No one takes care of that guy.”

She was about to open her mouth when he pushed away from the sink, his eyes growing wide as he looked at the sky outside. “Listen,” he put his hands on his hips, turning to her, “I need you to stay here. Can you do that?”

“Where are you going?”

His change in demeanor worried her, he ran a hand through his hair, pointing it out in her direction asking her again. “Can you do that Felicity?”

He mumbled something under his breath and paced to the back corner of the cabin, unlatched a cabinet against the wall.

"Steve," She stood up, watching as he shrugged into an old green army jacket with patches that had definitely seen better days. "You can't just be cryptic and tell me to stay put when clearly something is wrong."

Felicity's eyes widened when he pulled out a set of metal chains and a small handgun from the cabinet. He threw the heavy chains over his shoulder like they weighed nothing before checking the gun over once and then twice. Steve lifted his gaze to hers, ignoring her previous comment and flipped the gun in his hand, holding it out to her. "Once I go out that door, no matter what you hear or what you may see," he paused, tilting his head to catch her gaze currently glued to the weapon.

She felt the warmth of his index finger hook under her chin as he lifted her gaze to his, "Listen to me Felicity," amber eyes flickered between her own, "No matter what you may hear or see, you don't go outside. Okay?"

Her brows furrowed as worry dripped over her entire body and her bones filled with an uneasiness. She wasn't sure what urged her to nod her head in a response as he held the gun closer to her.

"Promise me." Steve's voice had dropped into a whisper, his thumb resting on the tip of her chin. "I know it goes against every stubborn bone in your body you've shown me today, but I need you to say it."

She hated everything about this. His warnings from earlier circled her mind like cruel vultures preying on her nerves. Felicity lifted her hand, her fingers wrapping around the grip of the gun. "Okay, I promise."

Steve tapped his knuckle twice on the tip of her chin gently before dropping both hands to his sides and clenching them into fists. The softness in his eyes was replaced with something else as he stepped back from her and made his way to the door leaving her standing in the middle of the room with only her racing thoughts and a handgun that resembled a water gun her brother had when they were kids. Only this was heavier and definitely not filled with water.

"Steve?" She blurted just as he yanked open the door. He stopped and turned back to her, "I want the truth when you get back. Why are these woods so dangerous to you?"

He stared at her for a moment, the metal door knob whining under his grip but instead of an answer Steve turned, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud that echoed against the log walls.

Felicity tapped her hands nervously against her jeans, spinning around in a circle to really do inventory on where Steve had left her…trapped her to be more exact. She walked around the cabin, bee-lining for the cabinet that he had pulled the chains from hoping not to find anything else that might prove her diluted theories that he was a serial killer.

Inside the massive cabinet was nothing more than another gun, “perfect,” she grabbed the barrel, setting it against the counter at her feet. Before closing it she noticed a ratty torn picture hanging from the door. It looked like it had been folded a thousand times and possibly gone through the washing machine. But it was of Steve and some other man, arms around each other laughing as they squinted to see into the sun. They looked young but not the same as the other photo, this was taken more recently. His hair was longer than it was now but the smile was genuine. She picked it up, twirling it in her fingers to read what was written on the back.

Remember who you are and never let anyone diminish that Steve Harrington light. Xx Ed

It suddenly felt like she was invading something really personal. Something close to heart and well hidden from anyone but himself although he was lonely up here, a past and emotions that are held inside those mysterious amber eyes to look back too. She flipped over the photo to skim her eyes over the two boys again. It all felt so relatable to her, having a picture of herself and dad showing off their big grins on their first hiking trip together under her pillow. A picture that felt like it held and never stopped to live through a thousand shared memories.

She thought of the picture on the wall, of the people he called family. It seemed like this Ed really meant something to Steve with the sparkle of life and wholeness almost breaking through his smile and eyes.

Who was this man before the woods took him over?

A sudden loud bang from outside made her jump up straight and almost trip over her own feet, feeling as if her heart almost broke through her rib cage from how close it sounded to be. In a panic she quickly tucked the photo in the back pocket of her pants and her instincts told her to reach for the handgun she didn't even know why she needed.

"Steve? What's going on out there?" Her voice trembled. The noise scared her off pretty good and she had no idea where the hell Steve went off to.

No answers, just the sound of her heavy breathing and fingers nervously tapping against the gun resting against her side. Should she go outside? Steve was pretty clear that she couldn't leave the house for her own safety no matter what...but what if something happened to him? What if-

Something moved in the forest, leaves and branches crushing under a heavy weight. Felicity was almost about to reach for the door when all of the hairs on her body shot straight up. Like a warning, along with Steve's echoing in her mind.

It was like something in one of the scary movies she’d watched with her Dad, when the main character knows they shouldn’t do something but they do it anyway. Just like them Felicity found herself being drawn inexorably towards the cabin door. With her arms prickled with goosebumps and a thrill of tension running down her spine she reached out and gripped the door handle. She jumped when she heard a thud just on the other side of the door, which now felt ridiculously flimsy to her. Pressing her ear against the wood there was a snuffling huff and a hint of a growl. Felicity swallowed thickly.

“Steve?” She half-whispered but there was no answer, just another grumbling huff.

Felicity closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath, muttering words of encouragement to herself. She silently counted to three in her head, making extra sure she got to the right number by adding in two-and-a-half, and then two-and-three-quarters. When she got to three she gulped and threw the door open wide, raising the gun at the same time.

There was nothing there. Except…

She swore something had darted into the treeline. Something big.

The full moon above illuminated the tops of the tall fir trees and spilled through the gaps creating spots of light rippling deep into the forest. If the pounding of her heart wasn’t screaming at her to head back inside she might have taken a moment to appreciate how beautiful everything looked.

A loud crunch from behind the trees snapped her gaze in each direction as she tried to figure out where it came from.

“Steve?” Felicity called a bit louder, not daring to set foot off the small wooden porch as she squinted into the darkness.

There it was again. Something big moving in the darkness, avoiding the moonbeams and lurking. A shiver ran down her spin and the feeling of someone… something, watching her crept across her skin like goosebumps.

She let out a short breath, and twisted her fingers around the gun like she’d seen Steve do earlier when she had first shown up. She was starting to understand why he was so on edge.

“Okay, we’re okay, the mountain man I was slightly counting on has disappeared, and I might be getting stalked by a bear, but it’s okay,” Felicity mumbled to herself, attempting to quiet the shake in her voice.

Felicity gnawed on her bottom lip debating on whether or not to go back inside and even though every one of her nerves stood on end she took a tiny step towards the edge of the porch. As if in warning another loud snap of a branch came echoing at her through the trees forcing her to stop.

“Warning received,” she muttered softly. “Steve?” She hollered a little louder this time hoping that he’d answer back, “if this is some sort of sick joke on the lost girl, you’ve made your point! It’s not funny!”

Another low growl came from the woods directly in front of her. Her eyes shooting to the spot. She narrowed them slightly, swearing that a pair of golden eyes were staring back at her and whatever was stalking her was still, sticking to the shadows.

"What the hell." Both hands now trembling around the gun and her whole body paralyzed.

It felt like those eyes bored right into her soul, feeding through the horror seeping through her veins and squeezing the last squeaky breath out of her lungs. She closed her eyes for a brief second with her heartbeats drumming in her ears, praying and hoping this was all actually just a wicked dream because she'd fallen somewhere in the house and hit her head damn hard.

A scratching sound against something inside the forest made her pop her eyes open, golden glowing eyes lowered the ground. But this time, not only did she catch sight of the bright yellow orbs that made her feel like a prey surrounded by several predators, something else shined against the moonlight. It dangled and clanged with every small movement from the thing in front.

The chains that Steve had taken were wrapped around and tangled into the fur of the massive animal. Slumping forward out of the forest as she stepped back on a shaky foot, her heel hitting the bottom step of the porch. Each massive step the animal took as it stalked from between the trees sent Felicity’s rapidly beating heart further up into her throat. The moonlight streaked through the fur, dusty brown shades mixed with long golden waves that seemed to glimmer with each swing of the wolf's giant body.

Felicity took another step back, nearly tripping up the step as she gripped the banister and balanced herself. Both eyes are still on the wolf. Where the hell had Steve gone? She swallowed tightly as it stepped forward again, lowering his snarling maw to the grass as it inhaled her scent. The chains clanged together sending an eerie tone through the silent, dark forest that chilled Felicity to the core.

Felicity felt the need to run, sweat marking her forehead as the wolf came closer and closer. With every step she took backwards, her heart beat faster.

“Steve?” She wanted to scream but it only came out as a whisper. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to run, to scream, but it was like she was frozen in place, the tiny steps she took back the only motions she could handle right now. She looked back for a second to see the door being only a couple of inches away when the wolf suddenly started to rise to his full height, making itself look bigger than before as it let out a deafening howl into the darkness.

Before she could even react, the wolf started to pick up its pace towards her.

Stumbling up the couple stairs to the porch, Felicity knew at that point her effort wasn’t going to mean much. She tried to spin and grab the door but her feet got caught beneath her and she tumbled forward, pushing open the cabin door with her body as she fell into the living room. The brown wolf leaped up the stairs and barely touched the wooden porch before he was snarling, standing almost on top of her. Felicity couldn’t bring herself to scream or speak, the scene in front of her almost hard to believe.

A large paw was placed next to her ribs, a claw slicing into the skin of her bicep as it did so. She cried out and jerked her arm while trying her best to sink into the floor away from its dripping teeth. Her dark eyes opened to meet the wolf’s amber ones, just as they softened and flickered between Felicity’s face and the bloody cut down her arm. With a heavy huff and one shake of its head the giant wolf took a few steps backwards before turning around and taking off quickly back into the woods. She stayed laying on the floor staring out at tall trees, with only the sound of her pounding heart left around her. There was so much in her mind that Felicity couldn’t make sense of until a piercing howl from the woods brought her back to reality and the growing, stinging pain now radiating from her arm.

She scrambled backwards against the wooden floors, kicking the door closed with her boot before sitting up. Glancing down at the gash now dripping blood down her forearm she winced, poking at the red and angry skin around it. Another howl echoed through the woods outside and though it sounded distant, it felt as if it reverberated through her bones.

Felicity forced herself up off the floor. The uneasiness in her stomach growing as she glanced around the room. If the wolf decided to come back she knew it was big enough to break down the door. Her eyes landed on the worn out couch before flicking to the door. Making her decision, she made quick work of sliding the couch in front of the door, wincing as the tear in her arm stung with the weight of the sofa. Once in place she stepped back, finally taking a breath.

Her arm throbbed, stung and felt heavy against her side as she looked down at it again. "That's definitely not good." Felicity muttered, "I wonder if Mountain Man has a first aid kit."

She wasn't sure why she was talking to herself, but it felt comforting in the moment. Though the idea that Steve was still out there with whatever that creature was made her heart clench. She made her way to the small bathroom, flipping open cupboards until she found what she was looking for. "Bingo." Felicity pulled the first aid out from its place under the sink and tossed it on the counter with a sigh.

Opening it, another relieved sigh fell from her lips when she found a bottle of alcohol, gauze and bandage as her savior. She winced just thinking about the pain that would come from cleaning the wound, but she knew better than to let it be, especially when a wild animal had caused her arm to be dripping in blood.

She quickly drenched a towel with warm water and dabbed the irritated skin gently to get rid of the dirt before popping up the lid on the alcohol bottle, pouring out some on a couple of cotton pads she found at the bottom of the kit and finished cleaning it carefully. A few hisses and groans fell from her lips but a couple of deep breaths helped her get through the worst of the stinging pain. Finally wrapping the bandage around the gauze securing the wound, she sat down with a huff on the toilet seat.

Felicity looked out to the living area from the bathroom, her mind racing through hundreds of different thoughts of what the hell she was supposed to do know. She guessed she was safe in here until Steve came back...oh god what if he doesn't come back?

"Get it together girl... the door is locked and secured along with the windows. The wolf can’t come ins-"

Her eyes snapped to the window just over the couch in the living room, long and sharp claws slowly dragged against the glass making a chill-sending screech pierce through her ears. The howl made her jump to her feet with her heart in her throat, frantically looking for something to defend herself with if needed.

Shit.

She realized she'd dropped one of Steve's guns outside when the attack happened since she didn't come back inside with it. Hopefully, the second she'd found was still where she'd left it. With one big breath of courage she ran to the kitchen, finding it on the floor and quickly picked it up with a shaky finger ready on the trigger.

The wounded flesh seemed to burn beneath the bandages as she raised her arm, trembling from the weight of the gun. She tried desperately to control her ragged breathing but she was dizzy and her eyes flickered out of focus every time she inhaled deeply.

Another snapping twig redirected her attention to the back of the cottage where the trees seemed to lead into nothing but a pitch black void. She swallowed tightly, shifting her stance in a feeble attempt to stay balanced.

“Fuck,” she swore, stumbling a step and crashing into the nearby wall with her shoulder. She slid down against the old wood, scraping her back and curling her knees to her chest. She fought hard to keep her eyes open but eventually the darkness was too heavy and pushed her backward into a sleep.

A loud bang from the front door echoed through her, followed by another and another. A rhythmic pattern that pulled her from sleep onto shaky feet. She screamed, forgetting about her arm as she used it to push from the ground only to crumble back against the floor in a pile.

The sun crept in through the dirty windows, warming her cheeks as she tried again. Sliding to her knees and finally her feet. She gripped the gun so tight her knuckles were void of color as she clicked the lock of the cabin. She peered out into the woods, scanning quickly for any sign of the wolf. Her eyes only dropped when a painful moan drifted up from the porch beneath her. She swung the door open to find Steve, soaked in blood and tattered clothes, leaned against the door frame clutching his ribcage barely breathing.

“Oh god,” she dropped to her knees beside him.

Her eyes hurt with how quickly they stared around his battered body, taking a silent inventory of every scrape, cut and bruise that she could see. “What the hell happened?” She hissed.

Steve’s golden eyes peered over at her before flicking down to the bandage on her arm. His eyes fell closed, “I’m sorry.” He whispered, “shit,” a small hiss left his lips as he shifted against the door.

Her brows furrowed, confused on why he was apologizing to her. She hovered her hand over his arm, afraid to touch him but knowing she needed to get him inside. “Steve, you have to get inside. Can—” her eyes met his again as the morning light filtered onto the porch. The flecks of gold in his eyes felt so familiar as if she hadn’t seen them yesterday but they glowed… just like… she shook her head ignoring the creeping feeling that the pained eyes staring at her now were the same from last night. It’s not possible. “Can you stand?” She asked softly.

He nodded as he took a deep breath, clutching harder onto the door frame with a bloody hand as a support to lift himself up. For a brief second she swore she saw his nails...longer before she blinked away the possible imagined picture in front. She also caught a glimpse of blood under his nails before he curled his fingers against the wood.

Let it go. It's just all in your head, just try and help him, she told herself.

He only managed to stand half upright before his body caved in and his knees fell to the floor with a loud thud. A deep groan fell from his lips and he hissed as he almost collapsed with Felicity if she hadn't caught him in her arms. Her wounded arm throbbed with pain but Steve's state was a lot worse and at the moment he couldn't even get inside on his own.

She needed to let her pain aside at the moment to help with his own.

His forehead rested against her shoulder and she could feel his breathing getting heavier and heavier, his whole body sagging against her hold. An aching feeling made an appearance in her chest, almost replacing the stinging feeling in her arm. She started to really get worried now from how weak he seemed to get the longer they waited. What the hell had he been through? She gently tapped against his side, making him slowly lift his head to reveal those warm and tender amber eyes behind golden, dirty locks.

“Hey Steve...it's okay, I'm gonna help you inside to the couch. Just put your arm around my shoulder and we'll do this together. Okay?”

He swallowed thickly as he looked down to her arm. "B-but I hu- you're hurt..."

“And bandaged,” Felicity choked out trying to balance his weight. Together they stumbled to the couch where Steve collapsed in a ball. He was down to a shabby pair of shorts that had been left unbuttoned, roughly thrown on to protect his modesty and half of the dark t-shirt he had left in.

Felicity moved without hesitation trying to keep her wits about her as she collected water, rags from the sink and tucked them against her body with a rough hiss. She gripped them with her sore arm as she grabbed the first aid kit that had been strewn in a bloody mess on the floor from the night before.

She dropped to her knees beside the couch and ripped the cap from the water bottle as she searched out for a pair of scissors to cut him free of the tattered shirt.

“I can do it,” Steve groaned, trying to sit up.

Felicity pushed his hand away as she continued to work. “Felicity I can do it,” he protested again. “Enough, stop!” He pushed her away harder this time causing her to lose her balance.

She held the scissors up, her tone sharp and serious as she said, “let me take care of you.”

Hurt flashed across his honey eyes but he leaned back against the couch with another staggered painful breath.

She dropped her hand with a sigh before making quick work of removing his shirt. Every once in a while her gaze would flicker to his face, eyes closed, brows furrowed in pain. Felicity wanted to know what happened, how he was completely fine when he left and now, he looked like he went ten rounds with whatever had been lurking in the woods.

When she dipped a rag into the water and wrung it out, her eyes flickered to him. His eyes were open watching her carefully.

“I’m gonna start here,” she said gently nodding to a series of scrapes along his abdomen. Felicity waited until he gave her a curt nod before she rested the rag against his skin and softly swiped away at the dirt and dried blood.

His abs flexed from her movement with the rag against the sensitive skin and he gripped the edge of the couch hard as to control the pain from coming out in more than what his body showed her, knuckles turning all white and veins popping with the pressure. She tried to be as gentle as she could but with all the dried dirt and blood...it seemed like some of it had been there for hours. His eyes never left hers despite how hard it seemed to make them stay open, according to her, looking like he's been fighting for his life with the devil himself.

She cleared her throat as she wrung out the bloodied rag, pouring more water on it before focusing on a small, fleshy wound clean against his side. A few curses fell from his lips as she faded out slowly while getting lost in her thoughts. She wanted answers. Not more questions. She didn't even know how to explain to herself what had happened to *her* these past hours.

"Want to tell me what happened out there? Where you were exactly?"

When he didn't answer right away she looked up at him. His eyes bore right into her and a mixture of sorrow and rage swarmed in his eyes before looking over her head. As if she didn't deserve a proper answer and it only made a fuming feeling inside her come to life and a stinging feeling collect behind her eyes. She thought she would die, she thought she wouldn't be able to see home again...and all while wondering where he'd left off to, leaving her all alone in a place she felt trapped and abandoned in.

Felicity shook her head, the emotions now catching up on her from the traumatic event and she slammed the wet rag against the wooden floor. "Damn it Steve! Where the hell did you go?! Do you know how scared I was seeing that thing out there and having no damn clue what I even saw and wondering if you really did leave me to die and now you're back looking like something from a horror movie..." She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears she didn’t have the strength to hold back.

A shaky inhale interrupted the silence. "I- I'm sorry...but- damn...you wouldn't under-"

"Don't treat me like a damn kid when I'm a grown woman!" She was yelling right at his face now and she slammed her hand hard down onto the floor, completely ignoring his hurtful look and the wave of pain in her arm it had caused. "If I'm going to help you I want you to be honest with me. I've been through hell. What. Is. Going. On. Out. There, please Steve."

“I never meant to hurt you,” his fingertips brushed the pool of blood that seeped through her bandage. Her eyes casted downward nervously as she tried to make sense of it.

“You didn’t,” she whispered, “it was—”

“Me,” he huffed, forcing his body upward on the couch until he was sitting, “it was me.”

Felicity slid backward away from him, her hands on the cold floor, eyes trained on Steve. The golden eyes that flickered from haze to rage with the blink of an eye, the soft, terrifying fur that bared striking resemblance to his hair. Now matted with blood and stuck to his neck and forehead.

Her father had spoken many times about skinwalkers. About the dangers of them but she had thought him insane for believing such tall tales.

“How?” The word dripped from her without consent. Her mind needed answers even as the rest of her body shut down in fear.

“Hawkins is a strange town,” Steve licked his lip and grunted as he swung his legs to the floor. “It’s hard to explain and even if I did, would you care? I can’t change what I am, but I can get you home. The sun is up, you can go. There’s a map,” he hissed trying to stand, “in the drawer. Follow it west to town, go to the station. Ask for Buckley. She’ll get you back to your car.”

“No,” Felicity said.

“No?” Steve chuckled, pain vibrating through him but his lip curled into a smile. “You’re the most bullheaded woman I’ve ever met.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she sighed. “You need a bath, you smell like a dog.”

“Was that a joke?” Steve’s brows knitted together as his laughter filled the tiny cabin.

“It was the truth,” Felicity swallowed tightly, “I expect the same in return.”

Huffing out a breath, Steve shook his head, glancing his eyes around his cabin, looking anywhere but the girl beside him, “This isn’t your problem Felicity, I can’t - I can’t drag you into this…” he whispered

“I hate to break it to you Steve, but I’m in it now,” she replied, holding out her hands, “let’s get you cleaned up, come on,” Felicity urged. Hesitantly, Steve placed his hands in Felicity’s, wincing in pain as she tucked his arm around her shoulder. The pair slowly started making their way over to the small bathroom. Felicity’s mind was still reeling about the events of the night, and the man beside her, but for some reason, cleaning him up and making sure he was okay seemed more important in her mind than anything.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve breathed, slumping against the wall outside the bathroom door, “I just need to - I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, you rest here for a sec, I’m going to get the bath started okay?” Her fingertips trailed lightly over his shoulder and arm as she gently let him lean against the wall on his own. Felicity’s dark eyes trailed over him, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she took in a small breath. “Don’t do that,” he rasped, leaning his head back against the wood as his amber eyes met hers. “Do what?”

“Feel bad for me…”

Felicity scoffed softly, “I don’t feel bad for you Steve…” she rolled her eyes when he raised a brow, “I’m—I’m confused how it’s even possible. I have a million questions but I know you won’t answer them. So I’m holding out on asking and instead making sure you don’t die before you help me get back to my car.”

She exhaled, finishing off her rant as he stared at her. Steve lifted his hand to reach for her, a gesture that surprised Felicity as his fingers brushed her own. “I can’t tell you everything.” He rasped, “and I’m not gonna die.”

Again she rolled her eyes, tired of secrets, tired of feeling underestimated on what she could or couldn’t handle. Felicity attempted to turn to move into the bathroom when his fingers caught her wrist, tugging her back to him. Her hands hit his shoulders and he let out a soft grunt at the thump her body made against his but his eyes roamed her face, landing squarely on her lips before flicking to her eyes. “You don’t have to help me.”

“And you don’t have to help me.” She whispered almost breathlessly, “call it insurance.”

Her cheeks flushed at the contact, his unusually warm skin burning underneath her touch and his hands skimmed her sides holding himself steady against her.

His tongue rolled over his bottom lip, “insurance.”

Felicity nodded, doing everything she could to ignore the swarm of butterflies taking over her belly. Her eyes flit from his own to his lips and back as she tried to keep her breathing steady and will her heartbeat to slow down under his grip. The tip of his fingers dug lightly into her skin as they held each other’s gazes. Their bodies pulled at each other like magnets just at the brink of collision. She could just feel the way their lips called to each other to close the sliver of distance left between them.

“I should get that water going for you,” she breathed between them, her hands traveling slowly down his arms stopping at his hands, giving them a soft squeeze before reluctantly pulling them away from her hips.

Felicity turned slowly, taking the two short steps towards the bath before she sat on the edge and turned the knobs until she found the perfect temperature and plugged the drain to let it fill. She lifted her gaze to where he stood, leaning against the wall watching her every move. Taking a deep breath she stood and extended her hands to him.

“Come on Sheriff Mountain Wolf-Man,” she encouraged, her lips curling upwards a touch. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Steve took her hand, hobbling toward the bath pausing only in concern for undressing, “spin,” he huffed.

“Now you're shy?” Felicity laughed.

“I don’t make a habit of undressing in front of women on the first date,” he groaned, working at the button with a shaky hand.

“This is a horrible first date.” She shook her head.

“I’ve had worse,” he laughed.

Usually she would oblige in one's request for modesty but something deep in her chest told her to help him regardless of the situation. So she didn’t turn, instead she stepped forward and brushed his fingers out of her way as she helped remove the shorts he was wearing. He turned his face away from her, his jaw tight as he stepped free of the fabric.

“Slow,” she warned as he lifted one strong thigh over the tub losing his balance. He gave her a soft chuckle in recognition before using her for support to step fully into the tub. Felicity lowered with him, tucking herself against his side and chest until he emerged in the warm water. “Is that okay?” She asked.

“It’s perfect,” he leaned back, keeping one of his knees bent to cover himself and sunk down into the warm water.

Felicity smiled, watching the tense muscles in his shoulders visibly relax as the warm water soothed his skin. His eyes found hers and her cheeks flushed, realizing she'd been just standing there staring at him. She cleared her throat and turned away, moving to check the cupboard for another rag.

"Why didn't you stay inside?" His voice was soft and she could hear the exhaustion in it as she found what she was looking for. Felicity turned to him and shrugged.

"I was worried."

He lifted his head for a moment, studying her as she sat down on the edge of the tub making sure to keep her eyes focused on his wounds and above the water. "About me?"

Her eyes met his and she was sure there was a slight crack in his voice when he asked. She got the feeling that he wasn't used to having someone worry about him and Felicity wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that he wasn't used to it or that he thought he didn't have anyone that did.

Either way she wasn't expecting the ache in her chest at the idea.

"Steve," she breathed, dipping the rag into the water and wringing it out, "I didn't know what was happening out there. I didn't know where you were and the things I heard out there, I couldn't just leave you."

He lifted his hand from the water moving to reach for the rag but instead his hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her hand just above his skin. His grip was firm, but it wasn't hurting her and it was more of a warning. One that she deep down wanted to ignore.

"I would have been fine," he said softly, shaking his head.

Felicity moved against his grip and pressed her palm to his chest, the rag still within her fingers but she was done with his protests. "And you showed up this morning half dead, you're lucky these aren't worse."

"Why are you helping me Felicity?"

Her gaze met his, amber eyes glossy under the bathroom glow. She rested her free hand on his cheek, swiping her thumb over a patch of dirt that marked his skin.

"Because I get the feeling that you could use someone to take care of you for once." She wasn't expecting the emotion that filled her words but something pulled her here yesterday, something kept her here overnight instead of booking it at her first chance and even though she should be terrified of what he admitted to her, Felicity wasn't.

She saw Steve swallow down whatever he wanted to say. The pain in his eyes wasn’t due to all the cuts and bruises he collected over night. It was a different pain, something that went way deeper.

Steve turned his head to the side again, avoiding her gaze as she slowly washed his chest with the cloth, trying not to hurt him some more while she cleaned all the blood that smeared his hairy chest.

“It’s not easy, you know?” He looked at the white and blue tiles of his bathroom, trying not to look at her.

Felicity just nodded, not wanting to say anything to interrupt him when he finally opened up to her. A little, at least.

“I didn’t want all of this to happen. I-” he choked on his own words. “I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got time, you know?” She tried to lighten up the mood a little with a silent chuckle but she didn’t get a reaction out of him as he just stared at the wall next to him.

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if trying to start but not knowing how. Putting the cloth to one side, Felicity reached out and covered his hand with hers and the gentle weight of it seemed to ground him slightly. He dared a glance at her out of the corner of his eye and then took a deep breath, steeling himself before finally speaking.

“This won’t sound real but I swear it’s all true,” he began. “I was…we were…just kids when it all started. We uncovered things that a child should never have seen. Monsters from another world, a parallel world. We called it the Upside Down. Seems a stupid name now.”

He made a noise that was half laugh, half sob and Felicity squeezed his hand gently. Turning it over he absentmindedly threaded his fingers through hers as he stared unseeing at their joined hands.

“There were rips, gaps, I dunno what you’d call them really, between the Upside Down and here. Hawkins was the centre of it all. We fought hard, lost people along the way, but we finally got all the rips closed.”

His other hand joined their linked ones and he fidgeted with her fingers. Felicity could feel his agitation rise with every heartbeat.

“It’s ok Steve, really. You don’t have to…” she began but he cut her off, as if now he’d started he couldn’t stop the story from pouring out.

“We thought we’d closed them all,” he huffed, shaking his head. “A few years later, when I was still just a police officer, I was sent to investigate a disturbance in the woods, not far from here. As soon as I saw the twisted tree with the tear right down the middle I should have booked it out of there, but I didn’t.”

He’d begun stroking his hand up and down her forearm, soothing his anxiety with the soft touch of her skin. Felicity’s heart was breaking for him, the despair on his face made her want to reach out and hold him but she knew he needed to finish.

“I was gonna call for back-up, Dustin, or maybe even Byers, but before I could something launched itself out of the tree and sank its teeth into my side.”

Felicity cast her eyes once more over the planes of his chest and caught sight of what could be faded teeth marks below his left ribs.

“I fought it off and managed to get a couple of rounds into it but the next month, when the full moon rose, something happened…”

He shook his head as he adjusted slightly in the tub, the sound of the water splashing against the sides filling the silence. She could see that he fought with himself now with being so close to tell the whole story. To wanting to let it all go but fearing to finish off whatever was pulling him in both directions in his own mind.

The softest and warmest pair of brown eyes glanced back again at her over a coated layer of tears. One tear slipped free to fall down over a scraped cheek, holding one of many painful memories. It felt like Felicity’s heart was tugged right out of her chest then. He just shrank at that point, turning so small and vulnerable but for her to fully understand him and see the truth. She could understand the many hidden emotions crawling out of him at that point, the pain and suffocating feeling of being locked up inside for too long.

“I thought I could handle it…to not become a monster…I thought I could build myself a future after all the shit even though it wouldn’t be with the people I wanted to share it with…” A sob escaped his lips, shaking as he squeezed harder around her hand.

Felicity’s mind raced with the images of the broken Steve in front along with the previous events, the pieces all forcing itself to come together despite how unrealistic it seemed to be. After all, these things only happened in books and movies, but…

The growls.

The feeling of looking at something familiar as goosebumps littered her skin.

She did recognize those chains.

“You aren’t a monster,” she said softly, reaching over to brush his jaw so he would look at her again. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I did,” his eyes flickered to her bandage.

“That’s nothing but a cool scar,” she smiled at him, “barely hurts anymore.”

“Felicity,” he chewed on his lip, “I don’t know anything about this…disease. What if-” he stopped and looked away from her with tears in his eyes.

“Do you know why I came out here Steve?” She said in an attempt to distract him from the spiral she could see him sinking into.

“Your dad,” he said.

“Yes but it started because it was the only place I ever felt alive, the woods. Dad and I would go camping to reset, and take a beat away from the city. The woods were always my home and call me crazy but for me, if something like that does happen, I’m not afraid of it.” She said with confidence, earning a shocked look.

“You should be,” he replied, “I almost killed you, and god knows what else I did manage to kill last night. It’s not fun, it's a curse.”

“I have been alone for months and it brought me to you,” she whispered, their faces closer than before. She could count the flecks of gold that sparkled in his brown iris’. “It can’t be a curse.”

A short shaky breath left his lips as his amber eyes glanced down to find their entwined fingers before finding her face once more, tracing her features. Felicity could tell that there was something on his mind that he didn’t want to say. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek and as his eyes softened, the corner of his lips twitched upwards into the resemblance of a smile. “Felicity,” Steve finally whispered, bringing his free hand out of the water and brushing the backs of his fingers lightly across her cheek. Shaking her head, Felicity rubbed the tips of their noses together and hummed, “I know what you're going to say,” she whispered back, “but I’m not going anywhere. Let someone be on your side, sweet boy, we can figure it out together, if you’ll let me.”

Another tear slipped down his still dirty cheek, and as he tried to choke down another sob, Steve leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to hers. The tension released from his shoulders as his free hand found purchase on the side of her neck, tangling into the short hairs at the base.

A swarm of butterflies took over her senses and instinctively Felicity leaned in to deepen the gentle kiss. She could hear her mother screaming at her now for kissing a random man in the woods after the night they’d had, but something about Steve brought a sense of comfort to everything. She’d come to the woods to try and reconnect with herself, and bring some sense of safety and normalcy to her life after the passing of her father, but instead she’d found Steve. Everything from the day before had led her to Steve.

“I’m sorry, I don’t -” Steve started, shaking his head as he went to pull back. Felicity pushed a tangled piece of brown hair off his forehead as she tilted her head to catch his gaze, “Hey, no,” she shushed him, catching his chin with two of her fingers and bringing his face back to hers, “I felt it too,” she assured him and placed another gentle kiss on his lips.

She felt the way his lips curved into a soft smile as they pressed into hers. Every butterfly in her chest fought hard to escape as he pulled away once more, resting his forehead against hers. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you.” he rasped.

It was her turn to smile as she curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently so he’d look up at her. “You were you,” she smiled.

Steve huffed a laugh. She could see the way his eyes had become glossy again and how his throat worked as he swallowed down whatever emotions were bubbling just beneath the surface. Felicity released him gently, dragging her hand down the side of his neck to his collar bone and pressed him back. “Let’s focus on getting you clean, yeah?”

Surprisingly he didn’t fight her. Steve leaned back into the tub as she began to work the cloth over his skin again. She dipped it into the cooling water, rung it out and began wiping clean the splotches of dirt from his face.

With every swipe of the cloth Felicity could see the color returning to his skin. Slowly but surely all the wounds across his chest closed and the bruises on his jaw and thighs started to fade. His fingers tickled along her arm as if he was tracing the imperfections of her skin as she worked and it was calming. She hadn’t expected to wander out into the forest and find someone like Steve. She just wanted to feel needed and wanted by her surroundings and connect with her dad. She laughed under her breath and Steve flinched from the sound.

“What?” He shifted uncomfortably not from the pain but out of worry.

“Before you put a gun in my face yesterday I asked my father to guide me home,” she said softly, “which at the time I thought differently of but I think he knew something I didn't.”

“You think you were led here?” He asked, curiosity dripping from his words.

Felicity sucked in a deep breath and shook her head. “It sounds crazy.” She laughed softly as she eyed his skin for any blemishes she may have missed.

Steve tilted his head to the side as the corner of his mouth turned up, “Felicity, I’m part wolf, I just told you secrets about this town that if told to someone else could put me into a padded cell.” He chuckled, “that’s the least crazy thing I’ve heard in at least ten years.”

She smiled brightly at him before shrugging, “I guess that’s true.”

She maneuvered herself almost behind him so she could move onto his back. Gently she urged him to lean forward in the tub as she began working on the dirt and scrapes that littered his skin there. “My dad never believed in higher powers,” Felicity almost whispered, “he believed in the things you could see and feel and smell.”

Her voice cracked softly, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “But he always told this story of being alone on the trails or in the mountains and having this sense of someone watching over him. He said that when he got tired or took a wrong turn and his panic settled in there would be this presence. Just a hand on his shoulder guiding him home to us. He said as soon as he’d find his way or get his energy back and felt safe again, it would disappear.” She smiled to herself, “it was the only thing he couldn’t see that he trusted.”

Steve turned his head to glance at her, “you felt him yesterday, didn’t you?”

Her eyes met his and she nodded softly, “more than once—and each time it brought me closer to you.”

He lifted his hand, twirling on a strand of her hair before gently tugging on the end. “Your dad would be proud of you.”

“Shut up,” she whispered with a smile, sniffling a little, “but thank you.”

Felicity finished washing down Steve’s back, hyper aware of the small grunts of satisfaction that slipped from his lips and she wondered just how long it had been since he’d let someone take care of him like this. Taking the bottle of shampoo and holding it up to him in a silent question, she smiled sweetly as he nodded.

“God, please,” he almost whined and so she set to work lathering up his hair.

She took her time running her fingers through the tangles, freeing the knots, and making sure she cleaned all the dirt from his scalp, which earned her a deep groan.

“OK,” she giggled, “rinse off.”

Steve flashed her a grateful smile and slid under the surface of the water, cleaning the suds from his hair before emerging once more. He shook his head, showering Felicity with droplets of water.

“Quit it, Toto,” she squealed, flicking water from the tub back at him, although what she thought that would achieve she didn’t know.

“Toto?! Really?!” He exclaimed, rounding on her with a vulpine grin.

“What…don’t you dare…” Felicity began as an arm snaked its way around her waist and dragged her flailing into the bathtub. “Let go of me! Steve! Oh my God, this water’s filthy!” She spluttered as she stared at him incredulously.

His real laugh echoed out through the tile bathroom as Felicity sat defeated in the murky water. Steve’s amber eyes caught her dark ones and she shook her head, trying her best to look mad, but the feeling of his fingertips skating along the exposed skin of her stomach quickly pulled her out of it.

“Are you happy? Now we both look like wet dogs,” she quipped, flicking water at him with a playful smirk on her face. “How many more of those can I expect from you, hm?” Steve quirked an eyebrow, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip. Felicity shrugged, as a slight blush crept into her cheeks. Instinctively, she reached up and brush a piece of hair off his forehead, “Sorry, I’ll stop,” she chuckled softly, “I made you laugh though, I think I get credit for that,” she replied, laying her head onto his chest.

Steve hummed again, and turned to press a gentle kiss onto her forehead, “Honestly, I don’t mind it coming from you,” he smiled into her skin and tightened his arms around her a little, “And you get credit for more than just making me laugh,” he whispered.

She grinned, combing her fingers through his wet hair. She felt his own dig into her waist, holding her to him. “Like what?”

He smirked though she didn’t miss the slight tinge of pink in his cheeks. Steve pretended to think for a moment before wrapping his free hand around the back of her neck tugging her to him. His lips crashed against her own in a soft needy way that had her stomach fluttering again. He pulled back gently staring up into her eyes with a sense of awe in them, “for being stubborn,” he whispered before planting a soft kiss on her, “courageous,” kiss “strong,” another kiss only this time slower and sweeter, “and for showing me it’s okay to ask for help.”

Felicity sighed holding his face in her hands. “To be fair you didn’t ask for help.”

Steve bursted out with a laugh and shook his head, “you’re right.” His smile sobered as he pushed back the damp hair stuck to her cheek, “but if it meant spending more time with you I would.”

“I’d like to spend more time with you too,” she whispered back, kissing him sweetly once more. “But please can we shower first? I’m covered in swampy wolf water.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed loud and long. Felicity’s chest tightened at the sight for it was obvious that he didn’t allow himself to be so vulnerable very often.

“Alright, Wildling, pull the plug then.”

Felicity did as he’d asked and the tub began to drain of the now-clouded water. Steve lifted himself up a little and reached around her to turn on the shower, which cascaded blissfully warm water over the pair.

It was Felicity who clambered to her feet first and she held her hand out to help Steve. He took it, despite the fact that his wounds had already healed, and allowed Felicity to haul him to his feet.

She stood before him, her soaked shirt and jeans making her even more conscious of his nakedness. Managing to keep her eyes on his face she swallowed thickly, the tension building quickly between them.

Steve reached out a hand and brushed a gentle thumb across her cheek before sliding it around to cup the back of her neck. He leaned forwards until his lips brushed against hers.

“Do you need me to leave?” He whispered.

She searched his eyes, resting her hands over his chest before sliding them down his skin, over his ribs to wrap her arms around him. Felicity shook her head, “absolutely not.” She whispered. It was breathy and a little needy but feeling his body mold to hers as he wrapped one arm around her waist made her never want to leave this tiny cabin in the woods.

“Tell me what you want Sweet girl.” He whispered back leaning into her and grazing his lips along her cheek, chasing the tiny droplets of warm water away with soft kisses.

She giggled softly despite the fact that her body felt like it was burning and it wasn’t from the heat of the water or him. Felicity wasn’t sure what she was doing when she asked “Help me out of these clothes?” But she knew it felt right.

Steve smiled against her neck where his lips had guided him and nodded. “As you wish.”

His fingertips worked diligently at the hem of her shirt as he helped roll the soaked fabric up over her stomach and chest. The air licked at her bareskin causing her nipples to pebble beneath the sports bra she was wearing. She giggled as Steve’s eyes grew in size, raking down her body with his lips, kissing every inch of bare skin he could find.

Felicity wiggled her hips in protest at how slow he was moving, “the water’s gonna get cold.” She whined as he kissed a trail down her stomach.

“Won’t matter,” he huffed against her skin. “I’ll keep you warm,” he popped the button of her jeans and flipped the hem of them over the top of her ass. Steve’s thumb dug into her hips as he leaned her against the wall for support, shucking her wet jeans down over her body one thigh and calf at a time.

Steve sank to his knees as he freed her from the pants, pausing as he threw them to the side to look up at her. The water ran down around his face, pressing his golden hair around his cheeks and neck. His eyelids were heavy, his chin tilted up toward her with a lazy smile on his lips.

“What’s going on in there?” He made to rise from his knees.

“About thirteen sit, stay jokes,” Felicity laughed as he lunged for her in retaliation. He knocked them both off balance, her back hit the shower wall as his hand wrapped around her and tugged her hips to his.

“This old dog has tricks,” Steve growled against her neck.

He cupped her thigh, tickling down until he gripped her tighter and hoisted her legs up. She wrapped herself around his waist as he adjusted her in his arms. He pushed back a chunk of hair from her shoulder and kissed a line toward her jaw.

“You really said that?” Felicity whispered a chuckle against his temple as he sucked gently at a spot just under her jaw that made something tingle deep within her belly.

“Only for you, but never again,” Steve huffed, pressing his lips in a fiery trail down her neck and across her collarbone.

Felicity gasped at the feel of his lips against her skin, hot, as if he ran warmer than the average person. Needing him closer she crossed her ankles behind his back and squeezed her thighs into his hips, pulling him towards her. He bucked his hips against her and she let out a soft moan as his hard length brushed against her clothed core.

“Steve,” Felicity whimpered, tanging her fingers in his hair and pulling his face up to her once more.

“What, Felicity?” He growled, low and rumbling. “Tell me what you want.”

“Everything,” her eyes dragged over the water droplets that ran down his face, “you, this, I want it all.”

“Are we crazy?” He asked, kissing her gently as he slid her soaked panties down over her legs, letting her kick them away.

“The werewolf asks the stockholmed hiker,” she kissed him back, dragging her lips against his bottom lip. She tangled her fingers into his hair, tugging gently at the nape of his neck. “Insane.”

“As long as we’re both insane,” he gave her a husky laugh.

“Hurry up and get to ravaging,” she tugged harder on his hair to remind him of her growing urgency to have his lips all over her. “Is that what you animals do?”

“You’ll be the death of me,” Steve groaned with the buck of his hips, “but I would die the happiest man.”

She grinned as she dipped her head to nip at the warm skin of his neck, “you sap,” she teased just as he bucked his hips again, his length pushed into her entrance just enough for a gasp to leave her. Felicity dug her fingernails into his shoulders holding on as he slowly sunk further into her with soft grunts.

“Shit,” he hissed as soon as he was completely buried into her. She felt full and warm and her entire body seemed to cover in goosebumps as he licked a stripe up the column of her own neck. “You even taste like sunshine,” he groaned, pulling himself from her and then thrusting into her at such a slow pace her eyes slammed shut with the intensity of it all.

“Steve, please,” She moaned.

He chuckled, “Just give me a moment to savor how you feel, woman.” Steve continued his slow thrusts until the soft growls that left his lips began to grow louder. Felicity tangled her fingers into his hair, tugging as she rolled her hips against his trying to get more of him. To feel more of him. Despite the fact that she was plastered to his body, it still wasn’t close enough.

“I can’t wait anymore,” he breathed almost in a whine, “I need you.” His hips began to move faster, pistoning into her while his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thigh. She was going to have bruises later and for once, Felicity didn’t care.

“You have me,” She whispered before crashing her lips against his.

He growled again against her neck as he thrust into her, the sound sending a thrill down her spine. Her hands grasped at his hair, his neck, scratching along his back, trying to touch as much of him as she could. She couldn’t get close enough.

“God, Felicity, are you even real?” He sighed into her ear.

“As real as you,” she gasped her reply, tightening her thighs around his hips and pulling him closer. “Do that again.”

“What, this?” He said, pumping his hips harder into her.

“No,” she groaned, her fingers clutching his hair. “Growl for me.”

“Fuck Felicity..." He breathed out as he gently scraped his teeth up along her neck, nibbling at her ear. "I frickin love being crazy with you." He circled his hips deep and hard while one hand drifted further up to place over her stomach.

"Steve, plea-”

Dragging his lips to hover over her ear, a much deeper and toe curling, rumbling growl made the hairs on her neck stand straight up and goosebumps litter over her skin in another wave, along with a tingling sensation of pleasure crashing over her. It shot through her body and a moan escaped from her lips as her eyes rolled. For a small second in her hazy mind she wondered how she once was so terrified of it, when it now had made her body and mind so addicted to it.

One of her hands remained tangled in his hair whilst the other drifted down his spine to clutch at his ass, her nails leaving indentations in the firm muscle. A soft whine left his lips and his hot kisses trailed down her neck once more. Felicity could have sworn she saw his eyes flash golden but the sound of ripping fabric drew her attention and her sports bra fell loose around her chest, the straps sliced clean through.

“Did you just…” she gasped, not stopping the movement of her hips against him.

“Sorry,” he muttered as his tongue laved a fiery path over her breasts.

“S’Ok…I didn’t…like…that one…anyway!” Felicity ended on a moan, her head thrown back against the cool tile as Steve took her nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the pebbled peak.

He groaned against her skin as his free hand drifted up along her stomach to knead her other breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between two fingers as he continued to pump into her. The feel of each thrust, every swirl of his tongue and roll of his fingers made her eyes roll back of the sensation coursing through, chanting his name as her hands gripped his damp blonde locks a bit tighter to hold herself up.

"Yeah so worth the death of that stupid bra." She panted, feeling a boyish smirk forming over her skin as her heels dug deeper into his back.

A gentle bite to her nipple made her suck in a breath from the sudden tingle, a whimper quickly forming in her throat as the throbbing feeling between her legs intensified. Releasing her nipple and lifting his head, he pressed his lips to her into a hungry and lust filled kiss before sucking on her bottom lip and releasing it with a pop. His lips moving over hers as he spoke with ragged breaths.

"If you could only see now, Felicity...god...this perfect face just for me to look at, these beautiful noises just for me to hear." He panted as the hand around her breast moved further down, smooth fingers tickling her skin and filled her with anticipation as they came closer to her needy bud. "Give it all to me, angel." He cooed just before his thumb pressed down and began to circle over her clit.

As the tension coiled in her stomach Felicity held on to him with every ounce of strength she had left, her toes curling and her back arching. Steve flexed against her, holding her tightly with one arm and working at her clit with the other hand. He rocked into her, hitting every nerve as his impressive length slid through her over and over bringing her to the edge. She felt like she was flying as the water ran cold and hit her sensitive skin. She cried out, dragging her fingernails through the skin on his back, hooking into his shoulder blades as her vision became spotty.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “Felicity look at me,” he begged a second time when she didn’t listen.

When she finally pried her eyes open he stared up at her with hazy golden eyes, his hair matted to his forehead and neck from the water. His soft, pink lips were sore from kisses and his eyelashes were wet with tiny droplets of water. He looked like an angel in the dim bathroom lighting.

“There’s my girl,” he ran his teeth against her bottom lip, slamming up into her relentlessly until the rubber band within her was taut again, ready to snap for a second time. “One more, together.” He growled, biting harder against her skin this time, sure to leave marks that she’d bare in the morning light.

“Steve,” she whimpered, clutching onto his shoulders, his biceps, one hand burrowing into his hair as she clenched tightly around him.

“That’s it, Beautiful, that’s it. God I can feel you, so close again for me.”

His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering against her as he neared his end. He pulled her even closer against him and with a final hard thrust he spilled inside her but it was the deep, animalistic snarl that escaped from his lips that sent her plummeting over the edge of her own release. Chests heaving, Steve dropped his forehead to rest against hers and she nudged her nose softly against his damp cheek.

Cold water sprinkled over their bodies but Felicity barely felt it, the heat radiating from Steve was enough to stave off the chill. He noticed anyway, the way the goosebumps rose upon her skin and how she burrowed deeper into his arms.

“Come on Mountain Woman,” he said softly, his voice thick with affection and some other emotion she couldn’t quite place. “Let’s get you warm and dry.”

He pulled away from her and Felicity almost whined again at the loss of contact but it wasn’t for long. He turned off the freezing shower and cleaned them both with a washcloth before wrapping her in the largest towel he had in the bathroom. He swept her up in his arms and she let out a joyful giggle as he carried her through to the bedroom.

He opened the bedroom door with a kick of his boot, revealing a dark room with only the moonlight illumination the far end corner from the window besides the bed. He placed her down on the edge of it, nothing more than just a dark wooden frame, it creaking when she sank down to the mattress, but it actually felt more comfortable than they eye could tell. He rubbed her arms with a tender smile on his lips, making sure that the towel was secured around her to not let the warmth escape.

"Ah, so you do actually have a bed, and sleep?" She couldn't help the playful smile that escaped when he shook his head with a chuckle, rounding the bed to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

"I'm still human you know?"

"Oh, I didn't meant it like-"

He walked back to her and gave a quick peck to her nose. "Don't worry your little heart out sweetie, I'm just messing around with ya, like you do you know." He winked, his warm hand cupping her cheek and she leaned into it, thumb caressing the skin under her eye.

The feeling of being embraced with a promise of safety and something else that made her heart flutter and she sighed into his palm.

"I'm gonna see if I can find some clothes for you, okay?" His knuckles slid down her cheek to rest against his side before walking to another door across the room.

Felicity sunk down into the mattress and tucked her towel tighter around herself as she watched him work. Flipping through endless plaid shirts, Steve paused just for a moment on a jean jacket, running his fingertips over the fabric before shaking his head once and moving it to the side.

Finally, Steve pulled out a light grey hoodie with a faded green tiger embellished on the front of it, along with a pair of blue gym shorts. With a soft smile, he made his way back over to where Felicity was and gestured to her to put her arms up.

“I can dress myself you know,” she quipped with a playful smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes, and gestured again, “always so stubborn,” he let out a light chuckle as his fingers ghosted up her arms before helping her pull the sweater over her head.

Felicity moved her towel, dropping it onto the floor and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching as Steve moved to kneel between her legs. He took her ankle in his hand and pressed a kiss to the side of her calf. He tucked her foot into the leg of shorts, followed by the other one and pulled them up, a giggle falling from both of them as Felicity wiggled her hips in an attempt to help.

“Better?” Steve asked, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

With a soft hum, she sank down into his bed with a satisfied smile, “I’ll be better once you’re here with me.”

Steve smiled softly and shook his head, letting out a sigh as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there. Sliding beneath the covers with her, his breath hitched as Felicity snuggled into his chest and slid one leg over his thighs.

“It’s been a while since I last did something like this,” he rumbled, wrapping his arm around her and tracing delicate patterns across her arm with his fingertips.

“Then let’s make sure it happens again,” Felicity mumbled sleepily, nuzzling her nose against the scattering of hair across his chest before they both drifted off into a comfortable slumber.

Summer gave way to fall and evenings came earlier and were crisp with frost. Felicity sat on one of the large wooden chairs that now had a home of the porch of the wooden cabin, a steaming mug of tea in her hand. She turned the page of her book, the words illuminated by the orange glow of the lantern hung above her, and pulled her thick blanket closer around her shoulders

A crackle of twigs breaking drew her attention to the forest beyond and her heart thudded at the low, rumbling growl that penetrated the trees. Her lips turned up at the corners as the dark figure emerged into the clearing and prowled over towards the cabin, it’s eyes glowing a brighter gold than the lanterns.

The giant wolf made its way to the stairs, deposited two rabbits at the bottom, and then looked toward Felicity. It cocked its head to the side and it’s ear twitched, as if it were proud of itself. Felicity sighed but there was a teasing note to her voice.

“You can clean those yourself, you know. I’m not doing it for you. Anyone else would just go to the store.”

The wolf whined a little and blinked it’s large golden eyes at her before hanging it’s tongue out of its mouth and panting comically. Felicity giggled and laid her book down on the deck before opening her arms.

“C’mere Steve,” she chuckled.

The wolf huffed and trotted up the stairs. Curling himself up next to Felicity’s chair he laid his head on her lap and almost purred like a kitten when she ran her hands over his fur and scratched behind his ears. She pressed a kiss onto his velvety nose and the two of them settled down to await the transformation that morning would bring.

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

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Hi there. Can I request a poly relationship with Albedo, Xiao and Scaramouche ? A mix of fluff n a pinch of smut is this possible ?

First of all, what the fuck gave you this wacky idea? I thought at first, wow, this is so random, how did they think this. But then upon making the banner- IT'S ALL MY HUSBANDS IN ONE FICNWOFHLSNDLKSBSOANA

I'll do my best but oh gawd, I'm just so baffled right now HAHAHHA- brain juice GONE

Three Shorties Convention

Poly Relationship with Scaramouche, Albedo and Xiao... (event masterlist)

HOW?!

Three individuals from three different nations somehow collated to love a single human, that of which is you. With how wide your range is for such individuals, we can greatly assume that you are an adventurer travelling the world.

You first met Scaramouche who was undercover, on the way to Mondstadt/Liyue through boat. As he was in the down low, he made sure to act friendly to avoid suspicion. When he heard you were on the same path, he thought of using you as an alibi.

The next person you came across was Xiao when you were passing by the Inn. You heard of the Adepti residing in the area and wanted to ask for blessings as your journey would be much more confusing and dangerous. You lit up incense and a small prayer before leaving.

The last person you met was Albedo. Mond was your last destination before you laid low again until your next long expedition, and you were looking for Alice who you met long ago during your expeditions. You last heard about Mond from her and wanted to talk to her about your adventures but ended up empty.

What made them stay/intrigued? For Scaramouche, he saw you messing with the meteors and your theories, your disarrayed thoughts and ideas somehow made sense when he looks past the lines. And you ended up being the reason he found the large piece of meteor in that... island thingy.

For Xiao, it was the incense I mentioned earlier. It was something you got as a souvenir from a commission in Inazuma, and the scent it gave off brought him to Teyvat Nirvana, the voices silent and his body soothed. His curiousity got the best of him as he tracked your path.

And finally, you first piqued Albedo's interest when you mentioned your affiliation with Alice, and when he listened to your stories (you forced him to listen since Alice was not there) it remindee him greatly of his master.

All of them were attached so badly that on your way to the wilderness one day, the three of them ended up confronting you in some kind of JJBA way with you in the middle. Their Visions and weapons were raised in worry until you identified how you knew them all.

And when they found out of each other's interests towards you, they grew more wary but turned to you: who was busy picking up a mint flower to truly understand what's going on.

"I like all of you!" Somehow all three of them were smart enough to realize that you hold at least a drop of endearment for each of them.

It was supposed to be a silent competition, that then ended up to an ambiguous relationship through coexistence. The problem here is: all four of you barely understood the grounds of a proper relationship, and delved deeper into this polyamory without a second thought.

Equal Thirds

Oh geezus, this is the most confusing setup you've been through. Having to juggle between three continents, three men, three different occasions. They were so petty to the point that your schedule must be split EQUALLY or else the other two would ambush the place you would be in.

Albedo is the busiest and lax when it comes to your "relationship schedule." As a person of Alchemy, he takes days buried deep into his research and he is more than thankful for the existence of a schedule, as he struggles with the maintenance of human relations a concrete time and day for when he is needed balances this. Albedo requests your presence during the period after his major experiments where he wishes to unwind and empty his brain of the equations and machinations. His type of love deals with comfort and distraction.

Xiao has the most free time in your relationship in terms of work, but he is also the one tied down strictly to his code of conduct. His time with you comes from your visits to Liyue and he will always be by your side whether you're in the outskirts or within the mortal realm. His type of love, ironically, is filled with longing touches and whispers of adoration for your strength and light that silences the voices in his head.

Scaramouche is the neediest boy in this bunch, the most mortal of them and the farthest from your reach. Your relationship is a secret to everyone especially the Fatui, but he makes sure that every agent in Liyue and Mond does not lay a hand on you or else he's breaking that same limb. Your time with him comes when HE comes over no matter where you are or what you do. His 'love' is filled with materialism and feisty aura, revelling in strenght and power dynamics.

When you're in charge of the schedule is the rare times that all three of you are together, because you plan your expeditions well in par with their seemingly conflicting schedules. Soon enough you four would be a whole team of travellers going around Teyvat to indulge whatever curiousities you lay upon.

"Circus Festival in Fontaine? Sign me and my three boys the fuck up. No complains, I know you're free."

Camping and travelling with them is sooo convenient too because they're all incredibly strong in constitution and battle. You only need to hang back and watch as they bring you a fireworks of elements, which are thankfully not very harmful against each other.

You're NEVER hurt or even TOUCHED when they're with you, they always have keen eyes for danger and always stick close to you to make sure you are safe. But on a RARE occasion that you DO get hurt, they have a formation: Albedo is tasked in retrieving you, Scaramouche is the backup in clearing a safe area for possible first aid, and Xiao lets all hell break loose once you three are gone.

They help out as much as they can whenever you all go out to camp but ultimately it ends up being some kind of adventuring class for the three of them since you're the master in this field.

Cute stuff: You never keep watch because they always want to cuddle, so one would be up and the other two would be cuddling you on both sides, and the rounds would switch between them while you have your beauty nap.

Albedo is pretty chill with the other two, but Scaramouche and Xiao seem to have a tension between them due to his Harbinger status. Xiao is wary and protective of Albedo because of the knowledge of his background coming from Morax. And all three of you deal with Scara's chattiness.

Your Pet Names for them! Scaramouche: Darling; Xiao: Sweetie; Albedo: Beloved. If you go beyond that, they start to see favoritism so you picked them carefully.

Their Pet Names for you! Scaramouche: My Dear; Xiao: Beloved; Albedo: Sunshine.

Soon enough, their soft rivalries turned into friendly coexistence and they would start to at least see each other in a better light besides acquaintances. While nothing physical or lovey-dovey would happen between them as they only ever see you in that way, they develop respect and slight trust. Competition long gone as it dissolves into compassion in protecting you and giving you the loving you deserve.

@albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @kookieyachi @struggljng @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22

Softcore under the cut! No looking, my children

In this relationship, individual and multiple participating intercourse is normal, and they happen when all parties involved are ever comfortable. With the fact that you'll change continents in mind soon after, the boys have their little rituals with you.

The most prominent of all would be Scaramouche's signature hickey on your neck. He sucks it hard enough to make it stay for WEEKS, so that when the other boys move to kiss you on your neck, they see the apparent mark and groan to themselves in defeat. It was your sensitive and ticklish spot, and he makes sure he owns it.

For Albedo, he almost always (probably in a kink way) do it with you on a surface that's NOT the bed. Table, chair, sofa, his lap, it seems that the bed is a sacred place for rest. And he usually ends up doing it when he is about to finish his work, hence the convenience of such furnitures. You were conditioned to the point that if you even just innocently lean on a furniture, your mind and body immediately snaps back to those moments, making you back off with a flushed face.

Xiao is the most innocent and yeet friskiest of them all. He loves to litter you with kisses all over your body, no bites and no scratches, just innocent flutters of his lips that makes you tingle. But such moments of lovemaking... seem to always happen on the Inn's balcony. Most of the time it's when the door leading there is closed for the night, but you were sure there were occasions that someone at least knew or saw what was happening, but you two were too drowned in pleasure to notice.

Whenever all four of you were to participate, safe words are always emphasized. Because you're suffocating right after between their bodies with all holes filled to the brim with them. Usually the formation goes as: Albedo behind you, Xiao in front and Scaramouche in your mouth. They may switch up when you still have the stamina but that's their default order, and yes, you orgasm multiple times and are overstimulated a lot. To the point that you're getting used to it.

It's a golden rule to always shower before and after your session, and they would be very caring and gentle during aftercare. With this arrangement, you always have a large bed rented or in your arsenal for a huge cuddle session at night.

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #xiao x Reader #scaramouche x reader #albedo x reader #poly #smut #not for children kinda #exile.flower #exile.goblet #kabdisnsosmsps

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years ago

Text

Kisses Like Wine: Part 3

In honor of the new photo, I think I will post this now. :)

Warnings: Nothing, the reader remains a blank canvass. Might have cursing.

Summary: The reader is working undercover where she things the next heist will be, while trying to figure out the Thief's ways…

Note: There really are diamonds in all these colors! I spent way too much time looking it up.

“Joe F. Gambrel and Co., how may I direct your call?” I shifted in my seat a little. The chair was not that uncomfortable, but I felt like I was definitely out of my comfort zone. I listened to the person on the other side, put them on hold. Started an email to my boss. Took them off hold. “I am so sorry. Mr. Larsen is in a meeting, may I take a message?” I typed the message in the email, hung up, hit send.

This was the shape of my day. Take messages for my reprobate boss, who was never in the office, and try to look like someone else. Act like someone else.

And, most of all, case the joint. I wondered, briefly, if the Thief ever called his work that…casing the joint. Probably not. He did not look like someone who used twenties gangster slang.

As I wandered the office suite, I hoped I was not wasting my time. I was working for a high end antiquities firm. If you wanted something, they got it for you. They did not have a lot of staff, and the bosses seemed to be out of the office more than not. The floors directly below me were home to a large business dedicated to restoration.

I’d been studying, and I was ninety nine percent sure that this was the next place the Thief would break into. The crown was — just a crown. Pretty, historied. I suspect he took it because he could, not because he wanted it. After all, it had been right there.

No. He had come for the Star. Almost a half a year prior, someone had stolen The Golden Queen. And now, if I had guessed right, he would be coming for a incredibly rare, beautiful pink diamond called The Compass Rose.

I went and looked at it, not for the first time. At the top floor of the high rise, the company — and Keith Larsen — kept the Compass Rose on display in an act of hubris that was sure, if Greek Myth was any indication, to anger some God eventually. It was in a huge room, the ceiling was all glass that arched up to a sharp point that was illuminated at night. The floor was marble, the walls a warm sandstone. Four benches, one on each side of the pillar that held the diamond’s display case. One wall held a fountain and greenery, meant to look like a small, exotic waterfall. The water trickled softly as I went as close to the case as I dared. And there. The largest pink diamond that had ever been discovered in Australia, glittering deep rose. It was one of a kind.

My thief was collecting a full set. There were three diamonds, including this one, in Midas’s Rainbow that the thief had not stolen.

He could have gone after one of the other ones. I could be wrong.

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. I had bribed my way in, under a new name with a perfectly wrought set of identification papers, even a credit card. I dyed my hair and carefully applied my make up so that I made my face a little different. So if I ran into him, he wouldn’t immediately know it was me. It was not, probably the best plan, but my training consisted of books and watching Leverage.

I was staring at it too long, the security guard peeked in.

“Miss?” The security guard peeked in. Older man, with warm, friendly eyes and a lovely voice that seemed not to match his age. We’d spoken a few times on my daily check of the diamond. No one was allowed to be in the room too long, and he was gently reminding me it was time to go.

I went out the door, leaned against the wall next to him, and asked the question that I’d been asking myself for weeks, since I started working here. “If you were going to steal the Compass Rose, how would you go about it?”

He stared at me for so long I thought he was going to go report me. “That’s not a smart question to be asking, around here.”

“There’s no harm, though.” I said. His voice bothered me. I wanted more, if I could listen to it a little longer…

He shook his head and didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry if I offended.”

He gave me a gentle smile, touched his ear and pointed to a corner of the room. Then he shooed me towards the door.

Back at my desk I snuck out my steno notebook from its hiding place in a stack of unused notebooks in my desk drawer. It was where I kept my plans. Layout of the building. Everything I learned. Since my purse could get searched at any time, I only had it at work. One steno pad looks like all the others, right? Locked in my drawer, under a box of tampons.

The fountain has to be the way in. There needs to be a way to service the pipes behind the wall.

If I could break something in the fountain without getting caught, someone would have to fix it. Someone would have to open the door or the hatch, and I’d know how to get in.

And the thief always liked distractions. But what kind of distraction would he manage to create?

My work day ended, I grabbed my purse, made sure my desk was locked, and started out.

“Honey?” The first front desk receptionist called after me.

I smiled and crossed over.

“I just wanted to remind you, tomorrow they are bussing in a bunch of high school students to tour the floors so they can see what it takes to restore old art.” She smiled at me. “You’ll want to make sure to get here early before they get here…it’s going to be a madhouse.”

Cue distraction.

The next day I went to see the madhouse for myself. I wanted to see the teachers. Most were women. I didn’t discount them completely, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t shave his mustache if he could avoid it. There. Curly, dark hair. Tweed jacket with elbow patches. What century did he think this was? I followed him as he ushered bored looking kids, careful not to let me see his face. Finally I went around a dented suit of armor and managed to get face to face with him. “Hey!” I said cheerfully.

It wasn’t him. Eyes too far apart, nose too small, just not him.

I apologized and walked off just as one of the teachers asked, brightly, “Can we see the Compass Rose?”

“Well. There’s no reason why not. The public are allowed to go in, but only one at a time, I think?” The woman who had gotten stuck showing the group around said. I hid as quickly as I could, not wanting to be pulled into the conversation.

I walked back to my office, hoping no one had noticed I’d slipped out, to be sadly disappointed. My boss was sitting on the corner of my desk.

“Where were you?” He asked me.

“Just wanted to see what all the noise was about.” Behind him, the lady security guard who switched on and off with the one I usually saw stood, looking that part angry, part unamused way only a security guard could.

“Open your desk.”

“What is this about?”

“The Compass Rose. It’s gone. I want to know if you have it. You spent enough time looking for it…made jokes about stealing it. So. Did you?”

I unlocked the desk and the guard pushed me aside, dumping the contents on my desk. I held my breath when she flipped through the notebooks, but they all were empty.

Empty. Oh, no.

I let her paw through everything I owned. Let her pat me down. “Unless she swallowed it, sir, I don’t think she has it.”

“I didn’t swallow it!” I let panic creep into my voice. It was not hard.

I let them x-ray me. I did. I admit it. The lab tech a few floors down gave me sympathetic looks as I stood there, shivering, in my gown.

And then I let them fire me. The frustrating thing was the lack of knowledge. They refused to let me know anything. What happened? How? Why? Was a playing card left behind? I wanted to know.

But most of all I wanted to know where my notebook was.

Two days later as I packed up my apartment, I received a package. My name…my alias, rather, in quotes. Quotes. I grabbed a letter opener and ripped it open with more force than I needed. I suspected, already, who would be cheeky enough to put quotation marks around my fake name.

My notebook.

The last page, there was a five of diamonds tucked in like a book mark. The back of the card the same as the one I carried with me wherever I went.

Across the last page he’d written, “A five star card for a five star effort. Not bad for your first try. I wish I’d thought of the fountain. That was clever, if a bit damp.” A couple of crabbed notes along side my own. Suggestions. Not actual plans. No, I’d need to catch him to find out how he did his theft, if he could be convinced to tell me even then.

I sat down, hard. He knew where I was. Where I lived. Knew I had a steno notebook, knew I’d hide it because I could have my belongings searched. How? How did he learn so much about me? I thought over the people I had met, since getting that job.

I imagined large hands carefully drawing things out of my purse, lining them up neatly on the marble of the entry way desk. “Sorry about this, miss.” The guard’s voice said, as he went through my things. Large, but graceful hands. A warm voice that bothered me because I’d heard it before. The security guard. He’d been guarding the damned diamond all along.

“Five star effort? Oh, I’ll show you. I’ll show you.”

I worried about telling my family of my failure, then I realized. He’d given me a clue. The cheeky bastard had given me a clue. Because one of the other diamonds was kept in a five star hotel overlooking the Rhine.

He was telling me that he was going to steal the Heart of the Rhine, a mossy green diamond worth millions. Now, if only I could believe him.

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys

#casillero diablo wine commercial #the thief #pedro pascal

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

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Come Alive

A huge thank you to @kiragenta for letting me write a fanfiction based on their incredible art!

Masterlist, Kiragenta's art that inspired this fic (please go check it out and give it some love!), Kiragenta's Tumblr; passerotto means little sparrow: someone who is learning how to fly

This was honestly the most fun and probably one of my favourite pieces to write. And, with their permission, here is one of the two panels that @kiragenta did!

Percy Jackson leans his head against the rough stone wall of the coffee shop and sips the café con leche he had taken to go. The streets of Rome are just starting to wake up and people rush around each other and into various shops. It seems a Friday morning in the city is a hive of energy before the slam of the weekend. Yet something inside him feels uncharacteristically dull. In fact he has felt like this since the beginning of this trip and frankly it is starting to piss him off. Nobody should be able to make him feel like this. And especially not his dick of a father who decides when and where to drop into and out of his life without warning. It was a new low to abandon him in a city he knew nothing about but to his credit he's only a little surprised.

Now he drains the rest of the coffee and chucks the cup in a trashcan nearby, punching the air when it lands inside with a rattle. The cobblestones under him press into the soles of his shoes as he picks a direction and starts down it. He doesn't have a destination so whichever way he goes he'll land up where he needs to be. Or at least that's what's supposed to happen. So far his wanderings have led him to a dried up fountain, a little cottage on the outskirts of town with more vines than wall, and just yesterday a café that admittedly sold delicious gnocchi and unbelievable coffee, but was not a life changing venture as he had hoped.

The flowers spilling onto the sidewalk from the outside of every shop make him want to become a florist, just so he can spend his days amongst them. He stops in front of a box of daffodils and brushes his fingers against their soft petals. Gods he loves flowers. He loves their colours, and how two flowers on the same branch don't even look the same but they're both gorgeous nonetheless. A woman comes out with warm brown eyes and a kind smile.

"You like them?"

"They're beautiful," He nods.

"Then you must have one,"

And before he can protest her hands are already reaching for the bloom and gently breaking the stem. "When people look at my flowers the same way you do," She hands him the daffodil. He puts it behind his ear. "Their souls are made of sunshine."

A tiny kernel of gold unfurls in his chest. "How do you know that?"

Her smile is warmth and sweetness and full of compassion, "Only the people who care about things that do not serve them can have that look."

"Thank you," He touches the flower tucked behind his ear, "For everything."

"Something is going to change to day passerotto," She looks into him then, her molten brown eyes staring into his ocean green ones, "The winds of the sea say so."

Percy would have called her crazy but for some reason he believes her, can feel it to. He just nods trying to wrap his head around the day and the conversation and, and, and...

"Come back for coffee this afternoon. We have the best americanos on this side of the square."

"I will," He promises preparing to head off in his destination-less direction, but something stops him, "Do you—" He swallows, "Can you recommend a place I should visit?"

"Have you seen the Grazia Salvatrice yet?"

He shakes his head, intrigued.

"Walk a ways, past the fountain in the square and over the bridge. There is usually a big crowd there but it should be relatively empty at this time."

"Thank you," He smiles, bright and hopeful for the first time in a while, "And I'll come back at the end of the day."

"Goodbye Perseus." She gives a motherly pat on his cheek before disappearing into her café once more.

It's only when he's past the fountain that he realises he never told her his name. But suddenly he's standing in an archway and there's a group of people excitedly chattering near him and he feels like he's known the world since he was stardust. He feels...alive.

He moves out of the archway and into an open space with little else save for the statue and small orange tree, just starting to ripen. He makes his way around until he can see the statue in all its glory. And gods is it glorious. It's as if someone draped a blanket of stone over a person. It looks so real. He looks real. A strong jaw and a fierce expression. Fists clenched like he's ready to fight, or holding back. And shoulders that look big enough to carry the world. Percy wants to know everything about the statue. Wants to know why it’s there, who it is, why they chose that gorgeous grey stone instead of bronze or brass. He wants to know the story. The group of people who were cooing over the statue moments ago now disperse until only a couple stood there, hands joined and eyes looking hopeful as they stare at the hardened expression.

He sits down on the bench and watches them, not expecting much.

But then one of the ladies drops a flower at the statue’s feet and he finally notices the small pile of brightness collecting there. Curious still, he looks at them and watches with wide eyed fascination as she swipe a thumb over the cool stone of his chest and then gently, ever so gently, place a kiss to his lips. The other girl does the same ritual and then they giggle and kiss each other.

His feet are moving before his brain has time to think and suddenly he's standing in front of them.

"Hi," He waves, "Sorry to interrupt."

"Hello," The girl with dark brown skin and braided hair grins at him, her black eyes sparkling. "How are you?" American, he deduces.

The other girl, tawny skin with white patches across her chest and on her cheeks, looks at him inquisitively but offers nothing but a smile.

"I'm good thanks. I just—" He looks past them at the statue, which was so much closer now. Close enough that he felt the strange warmth it emitted. "I just wanted to ask why you left a flower and kissed the statue?"

"Oh," The American girl laughs brightly, "Apparently if you leave a flower the statue will grant freedom. If you swipe its chest you will be granted love. And if you kiss it you will find home."

"And you can just do all three?"

"According to my girlfriend here," She points to her right.

"It is true." He can here the girl is native Italian. "Many people have found what they are looking for at the Grazia Salvatrice." She nods deftly.

"Okay," He offers them a smile and hopes it doesn't reflect the butterflies racing through his stomach. "Thank you."

"Bye," The American says before lacing her fingers through her girlfriend's and tugging them both away.

The little area is weirdly quite, save for the coo of a few birds and the bustle from the street there is nothing and no-one. He takes a deep breath and turns to the statue. There's something about its eyes he cannot get over. It's the way they burn. No that's not right. They almost...... crackle. It reminds him of electricity, lightning, storms. And the air around the stone is charged, makes the hair on his arms stand up. His eyes graze over the piece and catch on the clenched fist. He wants so badly to unfurl those fingers and interlace his own with them.

He's surprised by his reaction but something is drawing him to this ancient stone that he cannot, will not ignore. Taking another deep breath he steps closer until his hoodie brushes against the greyed chest. He doesn't even care about the dust that marks the blue fabric because suddenly the world disappears and the only thing he can hear is the crashing waves of an ocean and the rolling thunder of a storm. Slowly, carefully, he takes the daffodil from behind his ear and drops it by their feet.

"For freedom." He whispers.

And then a shaky brown hand is reaching up and he swipes a thumb over the stony chest.

"For love."

He looks at the sculpted cheekbones and sharp brows and reaches up to touch the perfectly styled hair. He wishes he could run his hands through it. Instead he let's his hand fall to the statues neck, cradling the back of its head softly.

"For home."

And then Percy Jackson sears his lips to the stone and light bursts from his chest. Rays of sunshine radiate from their bodies, but his eyes are closed and he is lost to the world. The statue moves beneath his fingers and he pulls it to him. He doesn't want this to end.

The stone is soft under his palms and he tugs at the warm skin to get them closer, together. This kiss will last for—

He jumps back with a gasp. The stone moved. The stone is moving. It is soft. And moving.

He collapses to the cobbled ground as he watches the statue come alive. The rays of light spilling from his own chest go unnoticed. Slowly the grey tinge bleeds away to reveal golden skin, and faded black pants, and hair that he is sue is spun from sunlight, and eyes the colour of topaz, of brooks, and oceans, and the sky.

"What the—" He splutters, "Who— How—"

His brain is on fire, underwater, buried alive. This is not real.

"Hello," The voice is gravely, naturally or from disuse he doesn't know.

"You were a—" He gasps, "And now you're a—"

Words. He needs words. What's language? What's the alphabet?

"Where am I?" The statue— no, boy—asks.

Percy cradles his head in his hands and tries to form a coherent thought, any thought.

"I'm sorry," The golden boy mutters, staring at the buildings and streets and everything. "Could you help me? I don't know where I am?"

"Yes," He answers rawly, "Apparently neither do I."

"What's going on?" He can hear the frown in the boy's voice.

"You were a statue, about one minute ago. And now you're... well a human?" He chokes out.

"I was what?" Those eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Yes. See that stand there?" Percy points to the empty block of polished bronze with a small plaque on it. "You were standing there a few moments ago, as stone."

"I don't understand."

"Welcome to the club." He groans, running his fingers through his already messy black hair. "What's your name?"

"Jason." He whispers, staring at the space he once stood in disbelief, "Jason Grace."

"Hello Jason, I'm Percy Jackson. And I just made you come alive."

#Jercy statue AU #Jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #Thank you again to kiragenta for the idea #Your art was so beautiful and inspiration just struck me like a brick #Jason #Grace #Percy #Jackson #Baby fanfic #Baby fanfic series #PJSSG series #PJSSG fanfic #not edited

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basilone · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Eva! All these holiday feels floating around have got me thinking - what does the Form and Void universe do for holidays? Is it more seasonal, like the solstices? Do Gods have feast days or particular times of year when they like to be honored?

Hi Merc! *waves* Ahhh, I’m all up in my holiday feels for sure! It’s so cool to get to talk about the Form & Void equivalent of these.. though I wound up pouring this into a small fic format, as inspiration suddenly struck! Hope you’ll enjoy the read, haha. ;) Thank you for this one!

-----------------------------------------------

He’s somewhat fond of foxholes.

Sure, it’s not ideal that the ground is really hard and that the air all around nips into freezing temperatures even during the brightest part of the day. Tab doesn’t much care for the fact that his toes feel like they’re never going to be warm again, nor does he care about the veritable piles of snow that surround them worse than the Germans do. The earth is difficult to sleep on, though the hibernation mode that exists in Easy thankfully extends to most of the bugs that he knows normally have no issue with making a nuisance of themselves.

His foxhole, however, feels remarkably cozy during these evening hours. Tab’s certain that a huge part of that is the present company and the three spare blankets they were able to get a hold of between them. Another part, he’s not loathe to admit, is the fact that present company is now huddled up against him and perfectly content to be pulled into his arms.

“Almost midwinter now,” murmurs Chuck. “No Festival of Peace this year.. It’s a really big thing down in San Francisco. They go nuts with the lights and everything.”

“Yeah, Babe’s been chatting big game about the Philly lights too.” Tab laughs and shakes his head. “Way he carries on, you’d think Philly – will-fight-anything-Philly, Chuck, of all places – is Peace’s favorite spot to hang out in. Any city that birthed the likes of Guarnere should automatically be exempt from that, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Do they have it up in Indiana, too?”

“Small pockets, maybe, but not really where I live. They’re bigger on the harvest celebrations. Lots of random prayers and celebrations for weather gods down in the fields. Fire’s got a healthy hold on the general public, too.”

“When was Fire’s big day, again? November?” Chuck blinks up at him, then sits bolt upright. “Joe Toye Day!”

“Joe Toye Day, yeah.” He grins up at the man. “What was it he said? ‘My god’s just gonna have to share?’”

“What a character, honestly. Even you don’t say that about the week-long debauchery you’ve got going in spring.”

“Hey,” he says, playing up the indignation, “it’s not that big of a debauch. We’re just very free love about things in that week. People like it. Lots of babies, lots of flowers, lots of marriages.”

“Your god’s celebrations are banned in, like, fifty different cities that I know of,” laughs Chuck, crawling back into the warmth of his embrace now that the cool night air begins to take hold. “They upped your dosage of the suppressants around that time just so none of us would feel the urge to jump your bones, man. That’s some serious free love shit.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around.”

“Gods spare us.” Chuck’s tone is teasing and remarkably free of condemnation. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so fond of the Californian, even when the man’s life choices remain utterly baffling at times. “Hey, do you think Wisdom’s got a celebration?”

“If she does, it’s probably midsummer or something? Winters doesn’t look too pleased with the snow and Nixon’s been complaining about the cold for a day and an age now. Doesn’t seem likely she’d have a celebration when her chosen hate the cold, huh?”

“Right. Some don’t seem big on celebrations, though.”

“Or we just don’t know about ’em. That happens, too.” He shrugs. Wraps his arms tighter around Chuck. “Couldn’t tell ya about Fate, or Home, or what something like Chaos would want for a celebration..”

“What about War?”

He snorts out amusement. “I wondered when you’d get to her.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s cute, really,” Tab says, “you trying to figure her out from this very safe distance. I tend to think.. She’s got everybody on their knees for her right now, with this fighting we’re doing. Probably doesn’t need a celebration for it.” He hums as pink and golden hues dance upon Chuck’s skin a moment. Smiles at the knowledge he’s still entrusted with, even in the midst of this icy winter that’s trying so hard to keep him away from his god. “You should ask her when you see her next. She’s been out there walking the line. Shifty almost shot her the other day.”

“No fucking way.”

“Way. He says she just laughed at him and complimented him in the same voice Speirs uses when he’s impressed but doesn’t want to show it.”

“I’m not gonna ask her.”

“Ask who?” interrupts Lieb’s voice from above them. “Mind if I..?”

Tab extends an arm upward. “Hop in, you little shit,” he says. “I’m trying to get Chuck to go talk to War about her celebrations.”

“Does War even have those?”

“Ow, Lieb, fuck, keep your bony knees away from my thigh,” complains Chuck.

“Chuck, seriously, you don’t have to elbow –” Tab hisses as a particularly sharp jab lands in his ribs. “Lieb, for fuck’s sake, don’t dislocate my – Settle the fuck down.”

Lieb’s unruly hair tickles his chin. “Shut up, I’m barely even touching you,” the other Californian grumbles despite the fact that his head has come to rest on Tab’s chest beside Chuck. Not for the first time, Tab wonders how it is that his arms always wind up being home to the two unruly members of the golden state. “Why the fuck were you talking about War? Are you on your Speirs bender again?”

“I don’t have a Speirs bender.”

“Yeah, you do!”

Chuck sighs as Tab and Lieb both unite their voices to let him know just what they think about that. Tab pats his head in mock-compassion. He’s gotten used to Chuck’s intermittent comments about Speirs and that god of his, marked by the threads of affection he can see clear as day in the man’s countenance when he does. Tab’s not cruel, mind – he’s seen flashes of it in Speirs, so blink-and-you-will-miss-it that he would be convinced he missed it if he hadn’t seen War’s eyes trace Chuck’s presence for well over a fortnight now – but Chuck doesn’t seem to want to believe that there’s anything there at all.

“Changing the subject,” says Chuck, then, and this too is predictable, “does yours have any celebration, Lieb?”

“Fuck yeah. Several throughout the year. Most of them are a they-tried-to-kill-us-but-here-we-are vibe, you know, because historically we’ve been persecuted a lot?” Lieb’s voice is barely more than a mumble. There’s something frosty in his breath that makes Tab shiver. “I like the sea-parting stories that happen at some celebrations a lot. Some older Ocean-chosen can do that. I can do it in a glass of water, but nothing else.”

“Seriously? I wanna see that. Why the fuck didn’t you show us?”

“Chuck, man, fuck off, I learned how to right before we got to Mourmelon. It’s too cold for it now anyway.”

“We could melt the snow.”

“Fucking great, genius,” snipes Chuck at Tab’s murmur, “let’s melt the snow with our minds or something because there’s no way we’re gonna be warm enough to melt anything otherwise.”

“Could ask Toye?”

“Yeah, and have Guarnere remark about how water-splicing is a useless talent again? I think the fuck not.”

“Like he’s any use, sitting there getting stabby about our enemies as if they’re just gonna magically appear in front of him if he wishes really hard,” snorts Chuck, relentlessly unforgiving of any remark that’s set to harm Lieb. “I think it’s cool. You’re cool.”

“Did you hear, Tab? I’m cool now.”

“That’s great, Joe, real great.” Tab yawns. “Can you two shut your yaps now? We’re on noise discipline.”

“We’re on noise discipline,” mocks Chuck halfheartedly, snuggling closer to Tab’s side as he does. “Do you think your god’s gonna celebrate the removal of that stick from your ass?”

“Yeah, that stick’s gotta come out before the grand debauch.”

“It’s not a fucking –”

“Gentlemen,” interrupts Nixon’s amused voice from above them, “debauch or not, we’re on orders. Keep it down. Set an example.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yes, Tab thinks warmly to himself as Lieb buries his laughter against his uniform and Chuck’s body shakes with barely contained giggles, foxholes are good for sharing. He brushes a fleeting kiss against their brows. Isn’t surprised when there’s sighing instead of complaints. Even unruly Californians, after all, need a mark of love to drag them through the cold.

#formvoidseries #floyd talbert #chuck grant #joe liebgott #basilonefic #this was so much fun!#dialogue-heavy as all get-out but fun #mercurygray

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mahizli · 4 years ago

Text

Core Planets (Plo Koon & Obi-Wan Kenobi, 20 BBY)

Part 17 of ‘Sparks of Hope - A StarWars Advent Calendar’

***

Jedi Master Plo Koon knew himself well enough in the Force to acknowledge he had enjoyed blasting that horrid slave-facility to dust and pieces.

He had also been treading the Way long enough to release those feelings, focusing instead on recalling the unique sensation flying always gave him – joining the Force in a precise, sharp, daring way Skywalker was probably closest to understand.

It had all been such a terrible mess. The mission on Zygerria, and later on Kadavo had nearly cost everyone their lives – were it for little Ahsoka’s resources and Skywalker’s tenacity.

The Togrutas from Kiros were all tended to, and Master Koon had assured himself that Ahsoka had not suffered from her captivity – he was not sure yet she had fully understood what she had risked, but was confident Master Ti would be able to coax more feelings out of her.

As it was, though, little Ahsoka seemed surprisingly fine, and had joined him promptly into meditation once she had finished talking to him. Master Koon had had no such luck with Skywalker – then again, the boy felt so stormy in the Force it was no wonder he had preferred releasing his feelings into smashing training droids to pieces.

Captain Rex and Obi-Wan had suffered most and were yet to be released from the medical bay – he was quite certain though that they would likely spend the night there. The Captain had looked close to collapsing once they had reached the cruiser, and Obi-Wan was feeling so small and quiet in the Force it almost felt like his dear young friend was gone.

And this was a feeling Plo did not like at all.

It reminded him too much of a small, six-year-old boy who had been so frightened and hurt by a cruel Jedi Master he had stopped talking for several days – long after Pong Krell had been sent far away in the Outer Rim.

Plo Koon had been younger then and was teaching the little Initiates Astronomy and Planet History. He was already on the Council, but was still honing his piloting skills, and the little ones had always asked eagerly about his trips to far away planets.

When Master Krell had seemingly confused teaching hand-to-hand-combat with strangling a defenceless Initiate, Plo had needed all his calm and deep friendship with Qui-Gon to prevent him from slicing one or two of Krell’s arms. Instead, he had persuaded his friend to take up Krell’s teachings, and had watched him and little Obi-Wan get closer in the Force.

The boy, though, had stopped talking for days. Plo still remembered him all tiny and huddled in the Force, colouring maps and writing down Planet-names without a single noise.

“Who can tell me what the Core planets are? Which ones did you colour orange, Initiates?”, he still remembered asking.

And little Quinlan, who had been busy colouring the Outer Rim planets that simply interested him way more, had pointed at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan knows them all”, the boy had announced, a front tooth missing in his smile as he beamed at Master Plo.

But Obi-Wan had stayed mute and motionless, small hands folded in his lap, eyes slowly filling with tears as silence had stretched in the class, Force-presence almost muted and shields drawn so tight he barely felt there.

Master Plo had asked the others instead, promptly filling the silence with eager answers, sending soothing waves towards the distraught little boy. He had sat down next to him, once the class had ended, and had watched fat tears making orange-coloured planets blur into shapeless dots on the flimsi.

“The Galaxy is a wide, endless place”, he had observed, projecting gentleness and care towards the small Initiate. “Yet sometimes it does not feel big enough to disappear.”

The little boy had looked up, tiny, freckled features peering up at him, making him wonder how someone could possibly think of hurting him.

“You do not need to disappear to be safe, Obi-Wan”, he had told the child in front of him. “And you do not need to shine to belong into that little world of ours. Do you know what would happen, should a Core-planet disappear brutally?”

The child had shaken his head and Master Plo had extended an arm, wrapping it around the narrow shoulders of the boy who would become his closest friend’s Padawan, and a friend himself.

“It would disturb the balance and gravity of every celestial body around. And what is the Temple, but a very small Galaxy, young one?”

“He… he said I would be sent away…”

The small voice had been hoarse and broken from disuse, and Plo Koon had felt the shivers running through his tiny frame.

“He said the Temple should be cleared from… late arrivals like me.”

More dots had met the flimsi, quietly, but Obi-Wan had not moved, small hands still curled in his lap.

“But I don’t know where to go.”

He had gathered the little one into his arms, then. Wrapping him into the folds of his robe, feeling tiny fists wrap themselves around the dark fabric, and a small face bury itself in his shoulder as the boy cried, quietly.

“You, little Obi-Wan, are exactly where you are supposed to be”, Plo Koon had told him quietly. “It is Pong Krell who does not belong here. And I will take you to the Map in the Archives now and show you just how far away we sent him, so that he will never harm anyone again.”

“But he is going to be angry.”

The voice had been almost inaudible, yet the fear in it had been clear.

“If he is truly a Jedi, he will let go of his anger. And if he does not – it is him, and not you, who should clear the Temple. Now breathe with me, little Obi-Wan, and try to let go of that huge fear.”

Those days of simple comfort had long passed, though. And Krell had returned, like a childhood nightmare, to sow death and destruction on Umbara – yet Obi-Wan had seemed to handle it as well as circumstances allowed.

Now, however… His friend had been too weak to talk much, starvation and injuries taking their toll on him. Obi-Wan had been able to fight back and maintain a semblance of a façade as long as Governor Roshti had been around – he had also been very anxious to assure himself of Ahsoka’s and Skywalker’s safety. But once in the medical bay, his friend had faded quickly.

And his Force-presence felt like nothing but a shadow.

Plo Koon entered the medical bay quietly, letting the doors glide close behind him, and knocked – entering the room where Rex and Obi-Wan were resting.

He found his young friend asleep, hands curled into fists close to his face like so long ago, shields still firmly up in the Force, preventing anyone from guessing his thoughts.

Captain Rex, though, was awake, golden eyes meeting his in that stalwart, steady way of his.

“How do your wounds fare, Captain Rex?”, Plo asked, sitting down next to Obi-Wan’s bed, careful not to wake him.

“I’ve been better, General”, Rex answered, truthfully. “But it feels wonderful to be away from that place and to know that General Skywalker and Commander Tano are safe as well. Your rescue was… very daring.”

The ghost of a smile grazed the Captain’s thin cheeks, and Plo marvelled once more at his warm, steady signature. It made the absence of Obi-Wan’s in the Force only more striking.

“It got him hard, General.”, Rex spoke, softly. “He was injured before we came, and… they made sure to whip him every day. But what was worse – what was so much worse for him was to see others punished in his place. They recoiled from him, General. Because they were scared. Because they honestly believed, very quickly, that Jedi only make things worse.”

Rex sat up, leaning against the cushions, unashamed of showing his wounds – bearing them like the rest of his armour.

“He made me give them his rations. He kept away till very late in the night, trying to soothe them through the Force, even when they made it clear they wanted nothing to do with him. And in the end… in the end he just made himself as small as he could. He told me he was hiding in the Force – trying to make the slavers forget he was there, so that they would not remember to harm others in his place. So when that Keeper taunted him, mocking that very compassion he tried to break in him – I killed him.”

Plo nodded, silently, hand resting on the bed close to Obi-Wan’s, but not touching him. His friend was still hiding in the Force – had still to truly come back to them. To feel that disappearing had stopped becoming the better option.

“You know”, Rex said softly. “I did not realise. Not really. I thought the General and I were similar, because we both fight. But I was wrong. I was trained to survive and kill, General. I was bred for warfare. And General Kenobi… he was trained to protect. And console. He will only survive if he can protect others. Taking that away from him… it was as cruel as harming a child.”

“He is no child anymore, Captain”, Plo observed. “He is strong in the Force, even though he is hiding, right now. But Obi-Wan is a true Jedi.”

“I meant no such thing, General”, Rex whispered, golden eyes growing somewhat wide. “I do not think General Kenobi childlike or weak, it was not my point and I apologize if it came across that way. What I meant…”

Rex rubbed at his short, light hair, popping his neck, completely oblivious of the Bacta-smeared marks around his throat.

“He has something pure, General. Something… something that makes one feel very fragile inside, whenever he gets hurt, because it shouldn’t be. He was comforting the prisoners through the Force, late at night – and I was right next to him, I could feel it. But I could also hear some of his thoughts. And do you know what he was thinking, at the very end, when he made himself very small and stopped talking?”

The Captain’s eyes were burning with fierce and protective care, and Plo shook his head.

“He was telling himself stories. Stories his childhood friend General Vos invented. He was lulling himself to sleep with them, creating that small bubble where nothing could hurt him. And when he realised it was helping me relax, he shared them with me.”

They both stayed silent for a while, watching their friend sleep.

“He misses his vode, General.”, Rex finally said, voice soft. “He won’t tell you. He won’t tell anybody. But he needs them, right now – not just General Skywalker or Commander Tano. He needs you. General Windu. Master Yoda. And General Vos, Unduli and Fisto. He needs to see you are still one in that Force you all feel, or he will end up disappearing, thinking the world is a better place without him. And we can’t have that.”

“No, Captain”, Plo Koon answered, lowering his shields and wrapping comfort, love and care around Obi-Wan’s sleeping frame, and around that wonderful Clone Captain who had turned out to be more resilient than any Jedi.

“We cannot have that.”

#star wars #the clone wars #fanfiction #plo koon #rex #obi-wan kenobi #post-kadavo #hurt/comfort #angst #i love them all

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discopiratetanis · 5 years ago

Text

In a Earth where magic exists, an immortal lineage of noble wardens is responsible for protecting magical creatures from humans.

Jaskier, the young grandson of Queen Calanthe, Poland's ancestral guardian, arrives at the small town of Blaviken, a refuge for magical beings who do not wish to have contact with humans, to complete his training as a warden.

There, in that haven of peace and safety, he'll meet strange but good people who will help him to learn and understand the true importance of his heritage and what really means to be a warden.

magical town!Geraskier AU. Sets in a not historically accurate Poland during the eighties, specifically 1984. So there will be a little bit of socialism (but decent socialism) here and a few references to WWII in a good way.

This is solely for my pure personal pleasure, so it will have an erratic update dates, sorry. But I hope you like it! Likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciate and encourage me to continue, thank you! ❤

Rating: M (for the moment)

Words: 6888

Chapter: 1/of many

Characters who show up in this chapter: Jaskier (of course, is his POV), the pack of wolves, Filavandrel as a humbled lumberjack, Yennefer, Renfri and Regis. Honorable mentions to Queen Calanthe, the Seven Dwarfs, a sleepy greyhound and a happy old woman on her rocking chair.

N/A: There will be Valdo Marx X Jaskier during the course of the story, but obviously Geraskier is the endgame pair!

You can also read the chapter on AO3!

If you want to support me I have a ko-fi!

It was raining when Jaskier got off the bus, a silent drizzle, a faint curtain of mist that you couldn't see if you didn't pay attention. But the air was wet.

Very wet.

Surprise, Jaskier, water wets! the boy thought, moving away from the road so that the bus would not soak him when it marched over the puddles in the ditch. He stepped on the mud beyond the asphalt. The bus stop was a simple wooden post, marked with a blue metal rectangle on which the number fifty-eight had been painted white. The road had two narrow lanes, one southbound, the other northbound. And everything else around was wilderness. Green, silent, lonely, deep woods. Jaskier grunted, hung better his duffel bag over his shoulder, and pulled a small piece of paper and a compass out of the front pocket of it.

"Alright," he said aloud, before reading what it had written on the paper, already getting wet because of the rain.

From the sixth stop of bus number fifty-eight, walk west until you find a big gray oak tree. Once you have arrived, pass underneath and continue straight ahead, Blaviken will appear before you.

If you encounter the wolves don't be afraid, they'll smell your magic and probably leave you alone.

The directions were simple but not much revealing. He knew it was for safety but. Jaskier clicked his tongue, crumpled the note into a ball, put it back in the pocket and opened the compass. Tiny dips blurred the glass, but the needle pointing north indicated the direction the bus had gone, so he looked on both sides of the road, crossed to the other side, and walked straight ahead, into the trees. Soon his silhouette was lost in the mist as if he had never been there.

The leaves crunched under his feet with an eerie noise at every step he took. The rain seemed to drown out the sounds of the woods, but Jaskier could still hear the peep of the boldest and bravest birds not scared by a little water. The wind was weak but sharp against the boy’s wet skin, who tried in vain to dry his cheeks and forehead every few moments with his also wet sleeve. It had been stupid not to grab an umbrella, despite his grandma's advice before he had parted his way, but it had been hellishly sunny in Warsaw for being September so he had felt rebellious and had dressed up with cotton trousers and a linen shirt with a lightweight wool jacket. Now he was starting to think that he was an idiot. The weather could be part of Blaviken's protection, yes. No traveler would want to get lost in those woodlands, in the middle of nowhere near mountains full of wolves and bears. But he also could be just a silly boy who had not taken an umbrella because he thought it would be sunny all over the country at the same time. At least he had his mountain boots.

It didn't take long for Jaskier to reach the tree that said the note, a huge gray oak in the middle of the forest. The boy stopped in front of it, noticing immediately that the rain was no longer drenching him. He checked the compass one last time before closing it and putting it in the bag. Then he took a deep breath. Yes, the tree was enormous. His trunk was so broad that Jaskier would need the help of ten more people to encircle it with his arms completely. It was covered with moss and tiny mushrooms everywhere and its branches stretched in all directions high in the sky, coating all the smaller trees within meters with their leafage. And then there was the hollow, the passage. It looked like an enchanted path, like those described in fairy tales.

Jaskier stepped into the entrance and looked up, tightening the strap of his bag. The way under the oak was not very long so he could see the other side of the tunnel perfectly. He walked slowly through that natural corridor of wet bark and lichen, fascinated, still looking up and around, amazed with all the magical static in the atmosphere. When he reached the end of the tunnel and came out into the open air again, the sun was shining and a cool, pleasant breeze shook his hair, playfully, and dried his clothes. A huge knee-high grassy clearing, sprinkled with yellow and white flowers, opened up before him. He reached the clearing with renewed energy, making his way through the grass and flowers under the sun, suddenly feeling that he was breathing much better, that his lungs were filling up with clear, clean air. There the birds sang louder, stronger, more beautifully.

Jaskier smiled.

He was in the middle of the meadow when he heard the rustling of a branch, the brushing of bushes and leaves on his back. Jaskier turned around, feeling his heart racing.

His throat went dry.

There, by the entrance to the oak tree, stood an enormous grey wolf. The animal was easily two heads taller than Jaskier himself, who was about five feet and nine inches tall. Its fur was streaked with darker flecks, and their dark green eyes glared the boy with interest. Jaskier didn't make any move and repressed a whimper, as if he feared the animal would jump on him with the slightest hint of activity. Then a new crackle made him look, this time to his left, and see another wolf, only one head taller than Jaskier. This one had murky brown fur and its right ear torn and ripped, probably by another wolf or a bear. It was wagging its tail quickly, staring at the boy. Jaskier blinked, feeling an awful and cold sense running up his back. A third wolf equally tall as the second one, with light hazel fur, appeared near the dark brown one. Both had intense green eyes.

Then, Jaskier remembered the note.

And it hit him.

It was weird. Even having been born and raised in the court of one of the great queens of the wardens, among magic and elements of all kinds, even though he had to know that these wolves were not merely wolves, Jaskier felt that he was an intruder.

The third wolf growled, low.

Jaskier swallowed.

“Uh, okay, alright,” he said, not sure if for himself or for the wolfs. “Uh, I… !” he tightened the strap of his backpack again as if that could calm him. “My name is–" he hesitated only for a second. "Jaskier! I came to Blaviken to train as a warden, Queen Calanthe told me to come here!” he paused again, looking at all the wolfs successively as he stood still, anxious, knowing that probably the animals were smelling his nervousness. He licked his lips, feeling his throat cracked and tight and, of course, still dry. “I’m… I’m sorry if I have bothered you stepping into your territory?!

The animals did not react to his words, except for the arrival of a fourth wolf, which emerged slowly among the bushes and foliage next to the big one and the oak tree. Its fur was white as freshly fallen snow, the cleanest, purest, most beautiful white that Jaskier had ever seen. It was slightly bigger than the smaller wolves, but not as large as the one in front of the tunnel. Its eyes were golden and gleamed bright and luminous, like the sun, like an endless field of mature wheat. Jaskier held his breath, looking directly at the white wolf, feeling dazzled and astounded.

It was as if time had stopped.

But then the grey wolf let out a hoarse bark, making Jaskier feel a chill, and the other three left immediately, disappearing just as they had appeared: from nowhere and in silence.

Jaskier exhaled all the air he was holding back, without taking his eyes off the animal. The wolf wagged his tail once, turned around and went into the trees next to the oak. The sound of paws scratching the ground, rustling leaves and twigs echoed for two seconds in the sudden silence of the clearing. Then that silence was broken by the joyful chirping of the birds and the breath of the wind.

Jaskier blinked, confused, still a little scared. He turned around as well, facing west, and ran. He did not look back even once.

* * * *

Blaviken was a little town located next to a lake nestled in a small valley between two arms of the mountain range. Jaskier discovered that because he not only had to go through the forest that hid it from the west, but he also had to go up the slope of the mountain to the entrance of the valley, where the river that drained the lake emerged from the ground a ran down the woods and the steep hills. By the time the boy reached the entrance of the canyon, the sun had already passed its zenith and was approaching the first hour of the afternoon. He stopped to rest near the road, a path full of grass that must have been carved by the wild animals.

Or the wolves.

Jaskier took a canteen out of his bag and took a sip of water. From there he could see the lake, so long that he almost couldn't discern its birth at the west; the mountains still with snow on their peaks, and the town itself. Jaskier had seen Blaviken's engravings and photographs. It was a picturesque, bucolic village, which did not seem to have changed much in centuries. It had the look of a medieval town, with a main street that was connecting the goat path and the entrance of the valley with the first houses, and was leading through the village to a central square where there was a fountain with a statue. Its houses, made of wood and stone, had two floors with smoking chimneys, orchards surrounded by small wooden fences, small sheds, barns... The more distant shacks were surrounded by larger fields of crops and fruit trees. A few horses and cows were grazing in the pastures that surrounded the village.

Jaskier took another sip of water and inhaled deeply. The air smelled and felt pure, fresh and lighter, healthier, than in Warsaw. In the distance, he could hear the squealing of the pigs and the rumor and echo of Blaviken's life. It seemed very peaceful... Jaskier bit his lips, put the canteen in the bag and stood up to continue the march. He knew that even though the village seemed to be close because of the slopes, the nooks and crannies, in reality it could be at least another hour's walk downhill.

He wasn't wrong, it took him an hour and a half to get to Blaviken.

There weren't many people at the entrance to the town. The first houses looked more like huts and storage sheds than real houses. A man with long blond hair tied in a ponytail and dressed with thick work pants and flannel shirt, was cutting wood near the main street road, next to one of the shacks. A pile of perfectly cut logs was piled against the wall of the shed, along with other smaller pieces made into more manageable firewood. A few hens with their chicks were pecking at the ground, paying no attention to any passers-by. A black dog, a greyhound, with a collar made of a leather band was lying, merrily asleep, not far from the log cabin. Jaskier took a deep breath and approached the man, being careful enough not to do it from behind.

"Excuse me?" he said.

The man, who had just finished splintering the log he was busy with, stopped, stood up with his axe in his hand and looked at the boy. Then Jaskier saw his pointy ears and noticed his strangely beautiful features, halfway between roughness and delicacy, and his so intense raven eyes. Jaskier blinked. The man, the elf, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, narrowing his eyes a little.

"You're the kid, aren't you?"

His voice was melodious, like thick honey sliding down a wooden spoon. Jaskier cleared his throat.

"Uh... yes, I suppose?" he frowned, confused. "Could you tell me where Renfri lives?

The elf nodded and turned a bit towards the main street.

"Go straight on to the square, the house with the red roof is hers, you can't miss it," he said.

Jaskier peeked out a little. The road, even though it was the main artery of the village, was not very wide. From there you could see the fountain with the statue, but not much more.

"Thank you, uh..."

The elf smiled warmly.

"Filavandrel,"

Jaskier looked and smiled back at him.

"Jaskier,"

Filavandrel nodded again. He was watching Jaskier a bit curious, inquisitive. Jaskier parted his lips, feeling as the elf knew something he didn't quite understand. He was about to ask if there was something wrong when Filavandrel turned around to clean the supporting trunk of the pieces he had cut off and put a new log on top. He picked up the axe and cut it cleanly in half. Jaskier made a tired sound and headed for the square.

"Thank you again,"

Behind his back, Filavandrel continued with his task and responded:

"See you around!"

Jaskier advanced step by step down the street, trying not to look around too much as if it were the first time he had set foot there. It didn't matter anyway because every person who crossed his path gave him an odd look, except for a few groups of random kids who were more interested in his current games than in a stranger. The village was tiny, Jaskier knew that one glance was enough for everyone to know that he was the new face.

The new toy

The toy

Jaskier flinched and made a grimace at the thought.

The square was wide and long as four houses together, surely buildings for more important things than storing wood or food. The central fountain was an oval structure, made of very old stone eaten away by the years. Several springs of water flowed from the pipes rooted in the pedestal of the sculpture that adorned the fountain. Jaskier stopped for a moment to admire it. It was made of bronze, already rusty with green, and depicted eight figures, five women and three men. Seven of the statues were smaller than the eighth, located in the center of the pedestal, and they held up both rifles and swords with a defensive, dignified, and heroic attitude. They wore clothes that were at least forty years old. Jaskier held his breath for a second. The eighth figure was a young woman whose impressively realistic expression denoted loneliness and sadness. She also wore old-fashioned clothing from decades ago, on which she had a hooded cloak clasped with a fancy brooch. She carried a spear and a gun in a defeated stance. Jaskier looked down and saw a plaque, made of degraded bronze too, which read:

In memory of the brave men and women

who protected Blaviken from the nazis

The boy blinked. And then his eyes started to sting. He contemplated the memorial for a long time, in silence, unaware of the people, both those who were passing by and those who were quietly at the doors of their houses chatting with their neighbors or simply resting, that were staring at him more and more curiously.

"Hello,"

A soft, gentle voice drove Jaskier from his thoughts. As he looked at, Jaskier saw a deformed hunchback girl with black, wavy hair, pale skin, and absurdly beautiful lilac-colored eyes. She was wearing a brown woolen dress and a blue apron with a pocket from which hung a bouquet of flowers and several colored rags, and carrying a large earthenware jar in her arms which she started to fill it under one of the pipes.

"Oh, uh, hello," Jaskier replied. Then the girl looked away from him to see how much she was filling the container. Jaskier contemplated her with genuine interest as if her task was the most interesting thing in the world. "So it's potable, the water, right?" he said a little awkward.

She giggled, still not looking at him, attentive to her chore.

"Yes, it's from the mountain, "

"Ah,"

"The pedestal also has a purifier,"

"Oh," Jaskier glance at the pipes. "Oh, yeah, right,"

The boy was silent then, not exactly uncomfortable, and certainly not quite sure if the girl wanted something from him or she just had greeted him because in little towns everyone greeted everyone whether they knew them or not. Jaskier wondered what kind of creature she was. It was, and it would be, very rude to ask that to someone you had just met, and Jaskier didn't have enough experience or expertise to guess the nature of a creature by sight alone yet. His grandmother could do that even with her eyes closed, only by analyzing the magical pulse and the auras around someone.

"So... can I ask your name?" Jaskier said, watching the water pouring into the jar, again as if it was terribly interesting.

He knew he only had to walk away with a 'see you later' to go and find Renfri, but he was going to live there all year round, so it was all right to have a little chat with the rest of the locals if he has the chance. And she had been kind enough to address him without pointing out that he was new around even if it was something so obvious.

"Yes, of course," she looked up, with those stunningly beautiful purple eyes that were smiling even if she wasn't. A warm feeling ran down his back and he felt much better, less nervous and more relaxed. "I’m Yennefer, but you can call me Yen if you want, is what my friends call me,”

“Oh,” Jaskier raised his eyebrows. “That’s… Are you sure? You have just met me, I'm not exactly your friend,”

"Right, but you're going to be our warden, so..."

"Well, technically I'm an apprentice–wait, how do you know?" Jasper arched his eyebrows.

"Oh, I just know," she smiled and raised the jar to the thick edge of the fountain. Then she embraced it and lifted it with some effort.

"H-Hey, do you want me to help you?" Jaskier took two steps towards her, almost extending his hands to help her hold her load.

Yennefer shook his head without being bothered by the weight at all.

"Don't worry, I can handle it myself,” she said, cheerfully and definitely not annoyed, and starting to walk away. "See you later, Jaskier"

Jaskier blinked without answering and watcher her until she disappeared around the corner from the southbound street.

What the hell has just happened?

When he looked to one of the nearby houses, he saw an old woman sitting in a rocking chair, who chose that exact moment to wave jovially at him. Jaskier blinked again and waved back, perplex. Then he shook his head and headed for the red-roofed building.

It was like every other house in the village, made of stone and wood with two floors. Its windows were half-open, with curtains of floral motifs full of patches. Jaskier looked up in case he saw anything through the windows, but the curtains were flapping with the breeze and blocking the view, so he went to the door and raised his hand to knock. He stopped at the sight of the heavy, corroded iron knocker shaped like a sun half-hidden by a moon. He touched it, lost, feeling that the shape was familiar somehow. But he didn't think much more about it and knocked three times with blows that sounded hard and cavernous.

He waited.

And waited.

And when it was clear that nobody was home, Jaskier pouted for himself and turned around.

"If you are looking for Renfri she is in the tavern right now!" The old woman on the rocking chair exclaimed without stopping its swing.

Jaskier looked at her, feeling dumb.

"Oh, oh, thanks!" he said and asked immediately after. "Errrr, sorry… where's the tavern?"

He saw the smile spreading on her wrinkly lips.

"Across the square, that building with the little cute drawing of a tankard hanging over the door!" she replied.

Jaskier nodded, trying then to appear confident, and bowed too much pompous and grandiloquent.

"Thanks, nice old lady!" he said.

"You're welcome, young man!"

Jaskier snorted, hung better his bag, and walked towards the aforementioned edifice. It was another house almost indistinguishable from the others except for that sign hanging over the door like in the soap opera stories about Robin Hood. He could hear voices coming from inside. Jaskier took a deep breath and walked in as if he were putting his hand into the mouth of a bear.

The interior of the bar was exactly like the taverns that could be seen in the few films that the polish government agreed to show in cinemas: a long wooden counter that looked old and worn but was actually very well cared for, long tables for several people, round tables for smaller groups, barrels and bottles behind the counter. The tiny modern touches that broke the illusion consisted of an old TV placed on a shelf full of glass bottles next to the most visible wall of the establishment, the beer dispensers, the radio on the shelves behind the counter, and some photographs, both in black and white and in color, of the town and the surrounding area. On the TV there was what appeared to be a match with the polish national football team, and it seemed to have the few customers engrossed with it. Jaskier took a quick glance at the screen and slowly approached the counter. Behind it was an older-looking man with short gray hair, very pale skin and dark eyes. His features were sharp, hard, as if he were rock polished by time. He was dressed soberly but elegantly, with clothes that did not quite fit in a place like that. When the man looked at him, serious and severe, Jaskier felt a huge, dense weight on his shoulders, as if someone suddenly sat on him and would not let him breathe. But that feeling immediately faded as the barman, who was drying a line of glasses, raised his eyebrows weakly and blinked.

Jaskier swallowed, thinking that those eyes looked terribly deep and old. And that they knew everything.

"You are the boy," the man said.

The clients hissed in frustration and disgust, still oblivious to Jaskier's arrival.

"Uhm...yes?" Jaskier said, feeling he was repeating himself. "I was looking for Renfri, someone told me she was here," he said, glancing around.

He didn't need to be told who Renfri was. Jaskier immediately located the woman, sitting at one of the small round tables farthest from the door and the television cabinet. She was half lying on the table, with a metal cup in her outstretched hand and her face resting on the other arm, as if she were...

"Is she... drunk?" Jaskier asked.

The man sighed, resigned.

"Luckily not, no, not yet," he replied.

"Not yet," Jaskier repeated.

The barman made a sad grimace but didn’t add anything more about it. Instead, he said:

"Sit with her, you must be tired from the journey,"

Jaskier let out a deep exhausted, and only a little dramatic, sigh.

"A little, yes, this place hasn't exactly been easy to find,"

The man smiled.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

Jaskier put one arm on the counter, glancing at the barrels behind it, searching.

"Do you have Tyskie?" he inquired.

Then he noticed the smell. He knew it was coming from the owner of the bar. It was a heavy, not entirely unpleasant smell, a mixture of thick, wet earth and lavender, a curiously unique perfume for a man. Jaskier swallowed. The bartender grimaced and picked up a clean tankard from under the counter. He went to the dispensers and placed it at a certain angle under one of them.

"I assume you're legal, right?" he said.

"Well, technically I'm forty-eight, if that doesn't make me legal..." Jaskier shrugged, trying to inhale not too hard.

The man pulled the lever on the dispenser, shaking his head with a snort.

"In human terms, yes, but if we calculate your real age you would be about... what, eighteen, nineteen years old? You almost didn't pass,"

"What can I say?"

The man poured the beer, a fresh pint with a crown of white foam. Jaskier grabbed the tankard with both hands and started to head for Renfri's table, from where she hadn't moved an inch. A wave of whispers and hisses indicated that a play in the match had not gone well.

"Thank you, sir,"

"No, no formalities. You're going to be spending a lot of time here, you call me Regis, "

Well, that's...

"Sure, thanks, Regis,"

Jaskier sat quietly at Renfri's table, leaving his tankard in the gap that she did not occupy with her body and arm. As soon as he touched the table surface, Renfri raised her head like a cat caught by surprise. Jaskier stared at her, taking a sip of his beer as she narrowed her eyes, slowly, and wrinkled her nose, finally rising to rest her back on the chair. She looked exactly the same as in the fountain sculpture, with slightly longer hair, a more wavy mane. But his eyes were just as sad.

Terribly sad.

The two watched each other silently for minutes, Jaskier sipping from his tankard, and Renfri holding her metal cup, making no attempt to drink from it, if there was any drink left. From the corner of his eye, Jaskier saw Regis and various of the clients who had been watching the game up until then, were very attentive to them. Jaskier licked his lips and clicked his tongue, not taking his eyes off the woman who had to train him in the ancient arts of the wardens from that day forward. He thought his grandmother had a slightly strange sense of humor, sending him to a little town like that, and to a warden with alcohol problems.

He couldn’t blame her, though, if he had the statue in mind.

But still...

“So…” he said, realizing that she wasn't going to be the one to break the ice first. He also noticed that she was looking at him in a very cautious way, scrutinizing him as if she was taking note of each and every one of his features, the color of his eyes, the shape of his face, the arch of his nose, the curve of his lips, or was estimating the number of moles he could have, or looking for the exact words to describe the color of his hair. “I’m here…”

Jaskier counted five seconds. When he was about to open his mouth again, the woman spoke and her voice sounded also tired and exhausted, though definitely sober thanks to God.

“Yeah, you are here,” she scoffed, blinked slowly and made a weak grimace. Then she drank from her cup and whipped the remained drops off her lips with the back of her hand “Let's make this easy, okay?”

“Okay?” Jaskier raised his eyebrows.

“There's not much to do in this place really, but since the queen is so interested in you finishing your training here, I'll do my best to fulfill her wish,"

Jaskier noticed the clear, perfect tone of sarcasm in her voice as if she was deeply annoyed that Calanthe had sent him there and didn't like the idea at all. He felt a bitter, awful sensation in the pit of his stomach and swallowed hard. It hurt him as if he had a stone stuck in his throat.

“Okay,” he said, lower.

She huffed.

"Today it's late and I've finished all the tasks, but tomorrow morning I'll start teaching you. I usually get up at sunrise, so I expect you to do the same,"

“Okay,”

Then she smiled leaned a little over the table, resting her arms on it.

"So... everything’s okay?"

Jaskier blinked, baffled.

"Uh… yes?"

"Has anyone said anything to you?"

"Uh... No?"

Renfri glanced at the rest of the bar. Jaskier followed her gaze. The clients turned around on their seats immediately, except for Regis, who slowly looked down with a sigh. More and more Jaskier had the feeling that something was going on or people knew something he didn't understand. And it was starting to get a little bit annoying for him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Renfri looked at him with a flat and apparently disinterested expression.

"Nothing," she replied. "As I was saying, rules. Luckily for both of us, I have two bathrooms at home, yours is upstairs. Take a bath before you go to sleep, you won't have time in the morning. We have access to hot water but don't waste it or I'll kill you, do you understand?"

"Yes,"

"Good," Renfri took another sip from her cup, pensive. Jaskier did the same, staring at her intently. "We'll have breakfast here at the bar, then we'll start with the routine duties. At noon we’ll eat here again and continue until we finish whatever needs to be done. There are days when you finish early, but others..." she grimaced.

"Yeah, sure, I understand,"

"Don't worry, kid, you'll do fine. As I said, there's not much to do really, it's a small town,"

Jaskier nodded and took the last drink, then reached into the pockets of the bag, looking for the purse. Renfri snorted.

"Don't bother, we barely use money here," she said.

"But–"

"You'll pay him with your wardenship, it works that way,"

Jaskier arched an eyebrow.

"Let me guess, everyone lets you pay by doing your job,"

For the first time since he had sat at Renfri's table, Jaskier saw the outline of a faint, small smile on her lips.

"You'll understand," she mumbled. Then she handed him her cup and waved him up. "Go on, be a good boy and get me more drink, and ask Regis to make us dinner,"

Jaskier pursed his lips, took his tankard and Renfri’s cup and went to the counter, where Regis was still drying glasses as if seconds before he hadn't been watching them.

"She wants–" Jaskier started to say.

"I know, I heard her, don't worry," Regis put down the rag and the glass in his hands, took Jaskier's cup and tankard and brought new ones. When Jaskier looked at him he saw his old, tired eyes and felt a wave, like a vibration in the air, of concern that sent a chill down his back. Regis sighed again. "You'll have to be patient with her, it's the first time–" The man hesitated for a second, as if he was looking for the right words. "It's the first time she has an apprentice,"

Jaskier blinked, suppressing the urge to look at her. A little further down the line, at the end of the counter, the spectators at the game were cheering their team on to score. Jaskier clicked his tongue.

"I see..." he whispered.

Was that it? Am I the first student she has?

"Do you like leek soup?" Regis asked then, leaving the new drinks in front of the boy.

Jaskier blinked, and thought about how little he had eaten soup in his life just because his grandmother didn't let the cooks prepare lower class meals in the palace.

"Sure," he said, nodding enthusiastically.

He took the cup and the tankard and brought them to Renfri's table, which was waiting impatiently for his return. The woman took her drink with energy and gave a sip. Jaskier sighed.

They drank in relative silence, Renfri more and more concentrated in her cup and Jaskier feeling more and more tired, both from the trip and from the alcohol. By the time Regis brought each of them a bowl of soup, both were lost in their own thoughts. The man gave them a silent glance before giving them the spoons and returning to the counter. The bar had been left empty, with the game about to end and the few remaining customers marching home for dinner.

Jaskier tasted a spoonful of soup after blowing on it a little and found a myriad of flavors so strong and delicious that he thought it was probably the best soup in the world. Not only did he notice the leek, but there was also potato, carrot, onion, he even rosemary and pepper, all perfectly mixed together. The soup wasn't quite broth, it was thick enough to melt in your mouth. After a whole trip based on cold meat sandwiches, that first hot meal in Blaviken would be forever his favorite.

Jaskier might have cried for joy if he hadn't had Renfri watching him over her own bowl with a strange expression. Jaskier swallowed the soup and looked at her.

"What?" he inquired.

Renfri instantly looked down, at his own food. She did not answer. The boy pressed his lips and stirred the soup with the spoon, watching the potato and leek lumps go around. He ate one, thinking. As he swallowed, he looked up again.

"Renfri?" he said.

"Hm?" She made no attempt to pay more attention to him.

"Can I ask you something?"

She shrugged.

"What's up?"

Jaskier licked his lips, feeling the taste of the soup. He took a deep breath.

"On my way here, after crossing the tree passage... I came across four giant wolves. They were... Are they from here, from Blaviken?"

Renfri took a quick and… a curious look at him.

"Yes, of course they're from here. You noticed they weren't normal, right?"

"Well, yes," Jaskier stirred in his seat. "So they're werewolves?"

She nodded.

"Vesemir and his pups, they help me to patrol Blaviken's territory. It's pretty huge and it would take me weeks by myself. If you saw them at the tree entrance they'll be back in two or three days,"

"Ah,"

"I'll introduce you to them when they get back, although... they probably know you better than you know them by now,"

"Oh, yeah? How?" He sounded more interested than concerned.

"The smell. There's no one in all of Blaviken with a better sense of smell. Vesemir could track you back to Warsaw if he wanted to. And in the rain. If you've seen them, they'll have smelled you enough to know your trouser size,”

Jaskier whimpered and took another spoonful. So he had made a bit of a fool of himself in that clearing. Renfri snorted.

"Don't worry, they're wolves, the most harmless and friendly creatures in town,"

"Really?"

"Really,"

"Regis doesn't look dangerous," Jaskier said, pointing his head at the bartender.

Renfri snorted again and leaned over the table a little and lower her voice.

"Regis could break you in half, though before that he'd sink his fangs into your neck and drink all your blood in one gulp,"

Jaskier opened his eyes wide and arched his eyebrows, suddenly feeling his throat dry. Of course, the smell of earth...

"I wouldn't do that, don't be absurd," Regis said from the counter. Jaskier looked at him. Although the man had the same calm expression as before, the boy noticed the irritation in his tone of voice. "Don't put such old-fashioned ideas into the kid, please,"

"But is it true?" Jaskier held his breath, turning in his seat to look at the man.

Then Renfri burst into a clean, heartfelt laugh that somehow that made Jaskier's heart skip a beat.

"What?" Regis asked.

"Could you break a person in half? Or drink their blood in one gulp?"

Regis looked at him in complete and utter disbelief, and resignation. Renfri's laughter slowly faded. He gave Renfri an annoying look for instigating such questions and then grunted.

"I could. Split someone in half I mean. Drink five liters of blood in one sitting? No, ancestors no. And I wouldn't sink my teeth into your neck either, there's too much muscle to go through. If I wanted to drink someone else's blood, I would first ask them nicely and then, if they said yes, I would drink from their wrist, or forearm,"

"What a gentleman," Renfri mocked, eating his soup.

"Oh, shut up, Renfri,"

She laughed again, much shorter and lower than before. Jaskier felt excited.

A pack of werewolves

A vampire

An elf

And whatever Yennefer was.

He had known from the beginning that this town was a refuge for magical creatures, but he had imagined goblins, elves, yes, okay, maybe some trolls, but werewolves, vampires? All he knew about them was from reading books that not even his tutors wanted him to read.

"Hey, don't look so excited and finish eating that, you'll want to go to bed early tonight," Renfri said, pointing him with her spoon.

Jaskier bit his lips, thinking fast and concentrated on eating what was left of the soup and drinking the beer. Renfri grunted approvingly and ended up with his own dinner.

By the time they left the tavern, it was already dark and there was no one left on the street. The sound of the animals in the village had turned into a silence broken only by the singing of the crickets and the sound of the families finishing their own dinners. There was little light, no lamppost. When Jaskier looked up, he could see the dark blue and purple sky dotted with millions of twinkling stars. He did not need to make an effort to discern the trail of the Milky Way over the lake.

He had never seen it before.

It was beautiful.

"Hey,"

Renfri got his attention. Jaskier swallowed, stopped gawking at the sky, and walked faster to follow in his master's footsteps. Once in the square and in front of the red-roofed house, Renfri took a rather large and quirky key out of his pocket. He opened the door with it.

Inside, the house looked like a ghost hostel.

Jaskier didn't have time to explore much, Renfri made him climb the stairs, made of crisp, dry wood, up to the second floor. There, in addition to the aforementioned second bathroom, there was a corridor with seven little rooms where, with luck, a bed would fit. In some of them there were small closets. Jaskier chose one of the rooms with a wardrobe, which had one of the windows with flower curtains overlooking the square.

"Remember, at dawn," Renfri said, before he went down the stairs back to the bottom floor.

Inside his new tiny room, Jaskier heard the sound of a door closing. When he was sure Renfri would not return, he sighed deeply, left his bag on the bed, a mattress with no sheets or blankets ready, and closed the window. He also drew the curtains. The window faced north, so it wouldn't get much light during the day, but.

He didn't think he'd be spending much time in that room anyway.

He took the bag off the bed and opened the closet. He found several bed sets, so he picked the first one in the pile and he laid out the sheets, the pillow, and the quilt. Then he opened his bag and took out what little clothing he had brought with him. Only clothes, no personal belongings that were not strictly necessary. He found his toothbrush and toothpaste at the bottom of the bag, along with the hairbrush. Jaskier brushed his teeth while filling the bathtub. He was grateful to find soap in the bathroom cabinet. He also took note of the first aid supplies he had. He assumed Renfri didn't spend much time in the house either, judging by how poorly conditioned it was. It didn't matter. Jaskier took a towel and his pajamas into the bathroom.

It took him a lot less time than it used to at home to take a bath, and not because he was sleepy.

When he came out of the bathroom, with his pajamas on and the towel over his shoulders, he walked down the hall and past the empty rooms quickly to his own. He closed the door and breathed a long sigh. Even if he did not smell closed or old, or a house that had not been used in a long time, Jaskier sensed an energetic tension in there.

He couldn't explain what it was.

Bit it was… nasty.

He turned off the light and got into bed looking at the door. There was silence, a tight silence. Jaskier gripped the sheets with his fingers. With all his senses alert, he only heard that silence. Not the crickets outside, not Renfri at the bottom floor. He held his breath.

But he was tired, so he soon closed his eyes, and his mind wandered into forests full of crisp leaves, vampires serving beer, and golden-eyed white wolves. It was fast.

That night Jaskier did not dream, exhausted, and slept soundly.

So soundly that he did not notice that, after midnight, the door of his room opened slowly with a faint squeak and stayed open all night.

#geraskier #the witcher #the witcher au #wardens of magic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #dandelion #gerlion

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ranawaytothedas · 5 years ago

Text

Taking In Strays

Pairings: None/Gen

Rating: G/Teen

TW: Implied/Referenced child abuse - Non-graphic detail

Characters: Morrigan, Maeve (my oc), Ella (HoF), Alistair, Barkspawn

Setting/Time Frame: Start of DAO

Summary: Shortly after venturing from the Wilds, Morrigan is struggling with leaving her younger sister Maeve at the hands of their cruel mother. She is consumed by fear and worry till she hears the sound of a hound barking and a young girl’s giggle.

A/N: I always knew I was going to cover some backstory for Maeve and what her experience was during the fifth blight and before, and how these things shape her as Inquisitor. Also because Maeve’s existence along changes some relationship dynamic in my mind, which leads to Morrigan and Alistair getting together eventually…. Which has its own huge role in Maeve’s story. So I wanted to start writing a little glimpse into Maeve’s past to set up her overall story.

Huge thanks to my sweet friend @cornfedcryptid for her editing skills, listening to me ramble about Tamaris and Maeve and helping find all the plot holes! I would not have been able to get anything written without her!

Enjoy!

AO3 LINK

It had only been a few hours since leaving her little sister in the hands of their mother, yet fear and worry for her consumed Morrigan as she followed behind the two young Wardens. Even if she voiced her fears, these strangers wouldn’t understand. How could they? They saw her mother being helpful and almost kind. They didn’t see the real monster she could be. Morrigan's mind raced. With each step, Morrigan hoped that Maeve would be able to weather their mother’s torment alone. In the past, the child would crumble into tears as soon as their mother cast her gaze in Maeve's direction. It had been Morrigan who had shielded her sweet-natured little sister from everything. Their mother had never looked upon Maeve’s sweet nature kindly, to her it was a weakness but to Morrigan it was hope. A hope that Maeve would one day escape. Morrigan wasn’t listening to the conversation of the two young Wardens, too lost in her own thoughts. Trailing behind them she muttered, “She will not last the week…” the comment going unnoticed by the others as the witch glanced back in the direction whence they came.

The hours passed as they made good time. The Wilds were long behind them when the sun began to set. The distant sound of a child’s laughter accompanied by an unfamiliar bark drew Morrigan out of her thoughts. The sound gave her new companions pause. Such a sound has not or should not be heard. But it was one Morrigan knew quite well, and one she didn’t think she would hear so soon. Morrigan spun around, “Maeve…” She muttered as she set off in the direction of the laughter not even thinking to pay the Wardens a second thought.

A hand clasped around Morrigan’s wrist. “Where are you going?” The young Dalish Warden named Ella asked quickly. The elf’s deep green eyes focused on the younger woman’s face filled with questions.

Morrigan scowled. “Do you not hear that?” The dog barked again and the laughter continued this time a young voice called out for the animal to follow her. Ella let go of Morrigan’s wrist and let the taller woman storm off in the direction of the sounds.

“Good riddance…” The other Warden, a young man named Alistair grumbled watching Morrigan storm off, “We really do not need her… an apostate will just be asking for trouble.” His Chantry based views blinding him to the situation at hand. A moment later Ella gave chase, an exasperated Alistair not far behind.

They didn’t have to walk far till they stumbled upon the scrawny little creature that was Morrigan’s younger sister. With her messy, poker straight, chestnut brown hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head. In her hands, she was waving a stick trying to get the attention of a Mabari that was a few yards away in the woods looking right at the child. Maeve was so preoccupied trying to get the hound’s attention, she didn’t notice that her sister had walked up behind her till she placed a hand on her shoulder. “What do you think you are doing?” Morrigan questioned sharply.

Maeve slowly turned her head to glance over her shoulder, her bright golden eyes wide. For a moment a small relieved smile crossed her lips that she had found her elder sister. “Oh, hi…” She stuttered nervously as she noticed the two Wardens behind her sister. Alistar was trying to glare at her but couldn’t maintain his scowl and ended up cracking a small smirk at the child. Ella, kind and compassionate as always just smiled warmly at the child.

“Answer me.” The sharpness in Morrigan’s voice made Maeve jump, something Morrigan instantly regretted. “Please, Maeve…” She corrected her tone making it less harsh, less sounding like their mother.

Maeve laughed nervously once more as she dropped the stick and was turned around by her sister. The child took in a sharp breath and looked up at her sister. The chlid’s whole demeanor changed. Guilt slumped her shoulders and dropped her gaze to her dirt-stained hands “I could not stay there…by myself...with her...” Maeve muttered, each pause punctuated by the scuff of her boot in the dirt. Her eyes darted back and forth between her sister and the strangers. She had been taught to fear anyone unknown. But her sister was not afraid or uneasy. Did that mean she could trust them?

Morrigan snapped her fingers to get Maeve’s attention, her younger sister’s eyes darted back to her. “What did she do? Did she try anything?” Morrigan began frantically looking over her sister, pushing up the sleeves on the patchwork tunic she wore looking for any sign of harm. Maeve fought against her sister’s fretting, trying to push her sister back but Morrigan was bigger and stronger than Maeve. “I swear, I am gone hours…” The elder sister muttered as she pushed up the bottom of the tunic to see a fairly fresh cut just bellow the young girl’s ribs, one mark of many that covered the young girl’s back and stomach. Morrigan drew in a sharp breath and pulled her sister close. “I should have never left you, I am so sorry…” Morrigan whispered against her sister’s cheek as she held her tightly. Morrigan wasn’t going to let Maeve be sent back. Morrigan silently resigned herself to taking Maeve and leaving if the pair of Grey Wardens did not approve. “You are not going back..” Morrigan whispered again reassuring Maeve.

The two Wardens shot each other a confused look as they watched Morrigan. In the limited experience they both had, they had seen little compassion from her and even less affection. Yet, there she was. Kneeling next to her sister. Arms wrapped around her tightly. It was touching, confusing, and a touch alarming to them both. Alistair was the first to voice his confusion. “What could your mother have done to her in a few hours?” His flippant comment, spoken in ignorance, caused a rage to bubble up in the young mage.

Her head snapped around as stood up placing herself between Maeve and the Wardens. “My mother could do quite a bit and none of what she could do is the concern of yours. My sister, however, is not going to be sent back…” Morgan declared firmly. “If you do not wish to take her on during your mission, I understand. But I will not send her back to Flemmeth.”

Alistair started to laugh as he bent down to speak to Maeve directly. “What are you going to do fight dark spawn, little witch? Can you even cast a spell?” He asked raising a questioning eyebrow. She was a scrawny child, looked no older than eleven if Alistair was to guess. How was she going to manage where they were going, even if she could actually cast a spell?

Maeve peeked out behind her sister and smirked. “Not really, my magic is still… unpredictable…” Maeve mumbled looking up at her sister, who for a brief moment let her mask fall and smile at her sister as she patted her cheek reassuringly before Maeve looked back at Alistair. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “But I can cut your throat in your sleep and take all your coin.” The way she said it, trying to sound older and tougher than she really was, drew a chuckle from Alistair and Ella.

Morrigan tutted softly. “You have never killed anyone or anything in your life…” She pointed out sharply, before turning back to her new companions. “She is, in fact, a good little thief, her magic needs training but if she applies herself I have full faith she could defend herself and at very least stay out of the way…”

“I already found you a Mabari… he was how I found you…. He was tracking you…” Maeve pointed out to Morrigan as Alistair walked around them to go catch the hound in the woods. Maeve turned back to Ella and smiled. “He walked past the hut and mother was distracted… so I gathered what I could and followed.”

Morrigan shook her head. “You don’t even have proper clothes.” She picked up the bag that Maeve had packed in her rush and looked inside. It had a few books, one change of clothes and not even an extra pair of socks. “Maeve,” Morrigan groaned.

Maeve smiled sheepishly at her sister and the elf across from them chuckled. “We will buy her proper clothes,” Ella responded kindly as she took a step forward and placed her hand on Maeve’s cheek. “You will listen to us if we tell you to hide? Yes?” Maeve nodded enthusiastically as Ella continued. “I am a Mage too, so it is not just going to be your sister getting on you about your training.” Maeve nodded solemnly as Ella slipped her gloved hand away from the young girl’s face. Ella shifted her gaze to Morrigan. “It is rather telling when a child would rather face a Blight than stay with her mother.” Morrigan nodded solemnly as she clutched Maeve to her side.

Alistair returned a moment later, the mabari close on his heels. “It’s the one from Ostagar, Ella…The one you helped cure from the taint. I’m amazed he made it out alive.”

Ella smiled brightly as she saw the beast. Recognition dawned on the two of them, giving Ella just enough time to brace herself. The excited hound crashed into her and licked her face in a frantic excitement. Alistair let out a low amused huff as he glanced down at Maeve who had her arms wrapped tightly around her sister. He noticed the way that Morrigan had her hand placed protectively on the side of her sister’s head, holding her again her. Letting out a low laugh he thought briefly about making a comment about taking in strays but thought better of it.

With a warm smile, he glanced down at Maeve who was watching the two Wardens with a nervous eye. Alistair remembered what it was like being a child, leaving everything he knew for the first time. Alistair knelt down so his head was level with Maeve’s and whispered, “Do you want to learn how to fight like a Templar?” He kept his voice low, a mischievous twinkle to his eye, as if he was letting her in on a secret.

Maeve’s eyes grew wide, a smile played on her lips, as she pushed herself away from Morrigan turned towards Alistair. “What’s a Templar?” She whispered.

Alistair laughed as stood back up and offered his hand to the young girl. “Come with me, half-pint. I’ll tell you all about Templars and what it takes to be a great Warrior. Unless… you don’t.” The corner of his mouth turned upwards as he smirked, making him look like the 18-year-old young man he was for just a moment.

Only Morrigan had ever looked at her with such warmth and kindness. Her curiosity overshadowed her fear as she reached out and placed her hand in his. The worn leather of his glove was smooth against her palm. There was a nervous twitch to her fingers as she waited for the trap to spring. But there was none.

“Do they have magic like my sister? Do they wear armor like you?” Questions tumbled out of her mouth as she stepped away from the safety of Morrigan’s embrace. A reassuring nod from Morrigan when she looked back added to the confidence that had taken root within her.

Fear bred from their past made Morrigan want to keep her close, to never let her out of arm’s reach. Though she had only traveled with them a short while, she knew no harm would come to Maeve. The young Warden may very well not have a brain in his head. But he made her sister smile, few people had ever been able to do that.

Ella smirked over at Morrigan as she patted the dog’s head. “I think this is going to be good.”

“You are not worried that she will get in the way?” Morrigan asked trying to hide her own fear.

“ It’s a Blight, she was not going to avoid violence and death in the Wilds. At least with us, she can learn to have a fighting chance and we can protect her…right?” Ella smiled softly. She wanted Morrigan to be at ease. The short time she had spent healing from her injuries in their home, told Ella everything she needed to know. That home was thick with tension. It was the same tension and fear her clan felt any time a human settlement wanted them gone. That was no place for anyone to be, least of a child. Ella knew that their fates may not be better, but at least they would not make either Morrigan or her little sister feel unwanted. Morrigan nodded sharply agreeing and Ella reached out and placed a tender hand on Morrigan’s forearm, “She seems like a bright girl.”

“She is.” Morrigan noted, sounding more like a proud mother than a protective big sister.

“Then she will be fine. I promise you.”

#dragon age fanfiction #inkies:maeve #dao fanfiction #DA fanfic #dragon age fanfic #alistair theirin #warden alistair #da morrigan #morrigan dragon age #my ocs #dao oneshot

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rason-rodd · 7 years ago

Text

Red Hood And The Outlaws: Loyalty (Chapter 14)

[Read on AO3] [Previous Chapter]

Chapter 14: Kindred Spirits

The best about living in a bunker under a police station is that you can have direct access to what’s going on in the city. The worst thing however, is when the information you get concerns an ally … or is it more a partner? … a friend? … a fling? Jason didn’t know. But when he learned that [Y/N] was going berserk on Black Mask’s men, he knew he couldn’t wait any second. He surely isn’t the only vigilante in this city listening to police radio. However he had an advantage on Batman this time: he knew her better.

And so he was not really surprised by what was before his eyes. It was almost the same killing pattern as the first time. Men butchered and dismembered, deep teeth marks and scratches. Except that this time she didn’t linger … with good reasons. The bodies were on the ground almost in a perfect circle. This suggested that she was surrounded when she was attacked and that she slaughtered them one by one very quickly. They tried to shoot her judging by the golden bullets shining at Jason’s feet but she was too fast and too cunning. She used some of the men as shields to protect herself during the gunshot. At least that is the best reasoning Jason could pull out by looking at some bodies riddled with bullets. Another well-calculated bloodbath. Stains of blood flowing between the cobblestones down the gutter caught Jason’s attention. They were a bit too far from the massacre. Was she hurt? … No, of course not. She was too clever by half to be harmed by simple thugs. It was someone else’s blood, a man who tried to flee the fight. Jason followed the trail and realised he guessed right. A man was slowly crawling on the ground not far away from him, a hand pressed on his wound to prevent the blood from flowing too much. Considering his direction he was trying to reach for a car and he was close. Jason looked around him. He knew what was about to happen. But he didn’t know if he should prevent it or not. He had promised Bruce not to kill but he hadn’t promised him he would save criminals. The dilemma didn’t last long as fate, under the appearance of a huge white wolf, bounced on the man from behind the car and took away his body away with a growl as he screamed for the last time. A mere couple of seconds after his still-masked head rolled under the car. Jason sighed. That was perhaps not necessary. He approached the car silently when he swore he had heard bones cracking. And here she was, her naked body covered in blood shining under the moonlight, her messy white hair flowing in the wind. What a beautiful killer. She wasn’t ashamed. Nor was she happy. She was just standing there still and emotionless as a marble statue. A deadly version of Botticelli’s Venus.

Jason took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders to cover her up without saying a word. She looked up at him and met his blue eyes. “Let’s go home.” He put his hand on her shoulder and she glanced at his gesture before pushing him away. “Let go of me.” He didn’t expect that kind of reaction. “ I’m here to help you.” She had a slight snicker. “Of course you are. This is your part of your vigilante crap thing.” He was about to retort but sirens and flashing red and blue lights interrupted him. “Okay, here’s the thing. Either you come with or you begin to run hoping the cops –or worse- won’t catch you.”

She was far from being stupid. Of course she followed him and rode back with him to his underground hideout. And once there, he just took off his helmet and placed it on his desk on which he leant in silence. But he had that look. Last time she saw one similar to this they ended up screwing on a rooftop. But this time it was different.

“ Why the hell did you do that for?” He asked sternly, his arms crossed over his broad chest. She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “There you go. Another condescending lecture” “ I’m not lecturing you, [Y/N].” “ Well it looks like it.” “ I’m just trying to understand why you killed those men.” He didn’t sound nor angry nor judgmental but something was definitely bothering her. “They kinda asked for it.” She growled looking at him right in the eye. He scrutinized her features twisted by anger and pain. She hated it. “What? Are trying to make me feel guilty?” “ No” “ Good. Because I don’t” He tried to put himself in her place. Would he sound as cold-hearted as her after such a massacre? And would he have been able to commit such ignominious act? He couldn’t answer for he didn’t know all of her story. “Did you forget that Batman was on your trail and that you have a cover to maintain with Black Mask? Why are you acting like this?” “I’m not acting, Redbird. I’m just being myself. And if you don’t realise that then you’re blind.” “You and I both know this is not true.” He retorted as he came to sit near her “I don’t know what Black Mask has done to you. But I know one thing: I don’t buy your masquerade.” She glanced at him briefly but remained silent. “I know that there is far more than meets the eye, that behind your self-confidence and your ravishing charms there is still that fragile teenage girl crying for some consideration and love. And you know I’m right.” She could feel his gaze on her but she preferred to keep her eyes down. She hated being told some home truths. “You and I, [Y/N], we are so alike. You said it yourself. And I’m not going to give up on the real you.” “ You should.” “ I grew up in the streets. Before I was adopted, I was just a poor street rat stealing tyres to survive. But I was given a chance as I’m giving you a chance, today. Don’t turn it down."

His compassion felt weird to her ears. She wasn’t used to this and therefore didn’t know how to act in consequence. So she did as her instinct told her. She confessed in a whisper.

“Black Mask killed my mother.” Jason’s eyes widened at the sudden reveal. It knew her hatred for Black Mask was personal but he didn’t expected this. Her voice was faint and broken. “I was nine years old…. My dad was working for him when he thought he would be a good idea to double-cross him.” That story sounded familiar. “Black Mask found out and he killed her… forced her to overdose with the very same drug my dad used to smuggle behind his back… … … I found her body in the living room” Way too familiar. “I still can see her in my head.”

And so could he. As if it happened yesterday. He could still see his mother dying by his side, slowly. He could still see her, here, lied on an old mattress on the floor, by the window, with bandages around her elbows, her drug-damaged skin lightened by few candles. And he could still feel her cold hand in his as he was holding it, begging her to wake up and to pull herself together. I wish you would stop taking that stuff. I wish you could here me. I miss you. But it was like talking to a brick wall, a cold fragile brick wall. He remembers being angry and hungry. He remembers trying to feed her. I know you’re not hungry much right now but you need to eat something. He remembers stealing food in the street. And he remembers the knocks he got and those he gave to get it. I hurt someone today. I was getting us food. He tried to take it from me, from you, from us. I started hitting him, over and over again. He remembers confessing to her, crying in silence. Mom, am I a bad person? Until the day he cried out loud. She was dead. His mom was dead. And he couldn’t save her. He called out for his help. But no help came. He was alone. Mom wake up! No! … No!!! … Mom! Mom wake up! Come on. Please. He held her lifeless body on the bathroom floor, hoping she would open her beautiful blue eyes and hold him as well. But she did not. She remained still, with that white foam around her mouth. Please mom wake up! I need you. He had always been conscious that her addiction was slowly killing her but he had always hoped it would never take her away from him, not so quickly, not so soon, not ever.

“ Anyway. I should go. Thanks for the ride.” She said on her way out. He rushed towards her to hold her back by her wrist. “No, stay.” “ Jason” She sighed to let him know she wanted him to let her go. But he refused. “Where would you go? Back to Black Mask’s?” “ There are other places here in Gotham. I’ll find one.” “ I want you to stay” He cupped her cheek with a delicacy that made her let go in his hand for a small instant.“ Don’t please. I … This is wrong. All this. I shouldn’t …” He frowned as she slowly took off his hand to leave this place. “ What are you talking about?” The mission. She was talking about that stupid mission. She wanted to yell, to tell him the truth, to tell him that the league is after him and that he’s in danger, that she was send to bring him back and that she was miserably failing because of feelings for him she shouldn’t have let herself feel. But instead she just said: “ Why are you so nice to me?” “ I care for you.” She sensed tears slowing watering her green eyes. She could bear her pain, but the mere idea he would soon suffer because of her, because she let him in, was unbearable. “ I don’t deserve it. If only you …” He kissed her to stop her from talking. She gasped against his lips. They were so soft. He was so soft. She let herself briefly melt against him, nestled in his strong embrace before abruptly ending the kiss. “I can’t Jay. We can’t.” “ I won’t let you go.” He whispered as he approached to kiss her again. She placed her hands on his broad chest to make him keep his distance. “ I’m trouble. Believe me.” “ I love trouble.”

#red hood and the outlaws: loyalty

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tenroseforeverandever · 7 years ago

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Dear Father Christmas... Chapter 12: December 24, 2027

MASTERPOST

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: When Charlie makes a new friend, it opens her eyes up to the world around her, and her life is changed forever.

Notes: This was a long one, and along with a bloody awful cold, set me back from my schedule by a few days. I’m trying to make it up and get ahead again, but I fear the time is nigh when I will not be able to post on schedule.

@rose–nebula and mrsbertucci deserve all the hugs. Thanks so much for all your support, ladies.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today was Feast.